f.k 


^ 


THE 

MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS 


The  University  Press  certifies  that  only  seven  hundred 

and  fifty  copies  of  this  book  have  been  printed 

on  Windsor  hand-made  paper 

September,  1895 

This  copy  is  No. 


™i'ii'''ifiii"'iii'i'ili|inHlllH|i|llllllH'ii|'l'Hiiiaiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii^^^  


THE 


Master  Mosaic-Workers 

BY 

GEORGE    SAND 

TRANSLATED  FROM  THE  FRENCH  BY 
CHARLOTTE    C  JOHNSTON 


BOSTON 
LITTLE,  BJRQWN.  AND  COMf  AI^JX 


Copyright,  1895, 
By  Little,  Brown,  and  Company. 


J(3rt$  Wilson  akd^Conj  ^Jib^idgk,  U.  S.  A. 


THE  MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

INTRODUCTION. 

WHILE  it  is  true  that  the  gifted  author  of  • 
"Consuelo"  has  not,  in  this  charming  nov- 
elette, adhered  with  absolute  accuracy  to  known 
facts  concerning  the  Venetian  painters  and  mosaic- 
workers  whom  she  introduces  to  her  readers,  she 
has  followed  them  with  sufficient  closeness  to  jus- 
tify the  classification  of  the  story  as  an  historical 
romance. 

Byzantine  workers  in  mosaics  found  employment 
in  Venice  early  in  the  history  of  Venetian  civiliza- 
tion ;  and  as  the  demand  for  work  of  this  descrip- 
tion increased,  it  was  deemed  advisable  to  form  a 
school  in  which  apprentices  should  be  instructed  in 
the  art  of  setting  colored  stones  in  patterns  on  the 
walls  of  churches  and  other  editices  to  which  this 


<y^^ 


55136 


THE  MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

form  of  ornamentation  was  best  adapted.  About 
1520  it  seemed  necessary  to  found  a  special  estab- 
lishment of  professional  workers  in  mosaics,  assisted 
by  designers  selected  from  among  the  more  eminent 
masters  of  the  day,  with  especial  reference  to  the 
restoration  and  renovation  of  the  Cathedral  of  Saint 
Mark. 

The  founders  of  the  modern  school  of  mosaic 
artists  were  Marco  Rizzo  and  Vincenzo  Bianchini, 
who  were  appointed  by  the  Senate  in  1517.  In  1524 
an  important  addition  was  made  to  the  school  in 
the  person  of  Francesco  Zuccato,  who  for  more 
than  half  a  century  remained  the  favorite  and  best- 
paid  master  of  the  Venetian  government.  In  1542 
Bartolommeo  Bozza  became  a  pupil  and  assistant  of 
Francesco. 

Francesco  and  Valerio  Zuccato  were  the  sons  of 
Sebastiano  Zuccato,  who  was  Titian's  first  master 
in  the  art  of  painting.  All  authors  who  have  writ- 
ten upon  the  subject  agree  in  ascribing  much  of 
the  perfection  attained  in  the  mosaic  art  to  the 
influence  and  encouragement  of  Titian,  to  whom 
the  Zuccati  were  endeared  by  his  early  association 
with  their  father.  Francesco's  portrait  was  fre- 
quently painted  by  him. 

The  feud  between  the  Zuccati  and  the  Bianchini 


THE   MASTER   MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

eventually  involved  the  friends  and  enemies  of  both 
families.  It  is  said  that  Vincenzo  Bianchini's  im- 
prisonment for  coining  was  upon  a  charge  made 
by  Francesco. 

The  controversy  which  forms  the  main  theme  of 
this  sketch  seems  to  have  arisen  while  Francesco 
and  Valerio  were  employed  upon  the  vestibule  of 
Saint  Mark,  and  the  Bianchini  were  designing  the 
tree  of  Jesse  in  the  chapel  of  Sant'  Isidore.  The  bar- 
barism of  writing  Saxihus  for  Saxis  was  committed 
by  Francesco  himself,  instead  of  by  the  procurator, 
and  he  remedied  the  error  by  the  use  of  a  piece  of 
painted  paper.  "  Bianchini  received  intelligence  of 
this  and  other  alleged  irregularities  from  Bozza,  who 
abandoned  his  master  and  went  over  to  Bianchini, 
on  grounds  of  which  there  is  at  present  no  explana- 
tion, and  the  Procurator-Cassiere,  Melchior  Michelle, 
was  privately  informed  that  irregularities  had  taken 
place  which  ought  to  be  prevented  or  punished.  A 
commission  of  inquiry  was  appointed,  and  the  Pro- 
curator was  present  when  the  mosaics  of  the  vesti- 
bule were  washed,  and  the  paper  which  covered 
Saxihus  was  swept  away.  On  the  22d  of  May,  1563, 
after  suspicion  had  been  thus  aroused,  Melchior 
Michelle  went  to  the  cathedral,  accompanied  by 
Sansovino  and  followed  by  Titian,  Jacopo  Pistoja, 
3- 


THE  MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

Andrea  Schiavone,  Jacopo  Tintoretto,  and  Paolo 
Veronese,  when  a  diligent  examination  of  all  the 
mosaics  was  made.  It  was  found  that  paint  had 
been  used  in  various  places;  but  the  judges  were 
unanimous  in  thinking  that  this  was  not  material, 
as  the  mosaics  were  otherwise  perfect.  Still  Fran- 
cesco was  ordered  to  renew  the  parts  that  had 
been  painted,  at  his  own  expense;  and  Valerio  was 
deprived  of  his  salary  till  such  time  as  he  should 
prove  his  skill  afresh."  i 

The  following,  from  a  contemporary  source, 
throws  a  still  stronger  light  upon  the  author's 
fidelity  to  history  as  the  groundwork  of  her 
story. 

"  I  must  not  here  omit  to  mention,"  says  Vasari 
in  his  Life  of  Titian,  "that  the  art  of  mosaic, 
almost  abandoned  in  all  other  places,  is  encouraged 
and  kept  in  life  by  the  Most  Serene  Senate  of 
Venice,  and  of  this  Titian  has  been  the  principal 
cause;  seeing  that,  so  far  as  in  him  lies,  he  has 
ever  labored  to  promote  the  exercise  thereof,  and 
to  procure  respectable  remuneration  for  those  who 
practise  the  art.  All  that  has  been  done  in  Venice 
has  been  executed  after  the  designs  of  Titian  and 

'  Crowe  and  Cavalcaselle,  "  Life  and  Times  of  Titian." 


THE  MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

other  excellent  painters,  who  have  made  colored 
cartoons  for  the  same ;  thus  the  works  are  brought 
to  perfection,  as  may  be  seen  in  the  portico  of  San 
Marco,  where  there  is  a  'Judgment  of  Solomon,'  so 
beautiful  that  it  could  scarcely  be  executed  more 
delicately  with  the  pencil  and  colors.^  But  in  the 
art  of  mosaic  there  are  none  who  have  distinguished 
themselves  more  highly  in  our  times  than  have 
Valerio  and  Vincenzio  Zuccheri,  natives  of  Treviso,2 
many  stories  by  whom  may  be  seen  in  San  Marco. 
Those  from  the  Apocalypse  may  more  particularly 
be  specified.  In  this  work  the  four  Evangelists, 
under  the  form  of  various  animals,  are  seen  to 
surround  the  throne  of  God;  the  Seven  Candle- 
sticks, and  other  things,  are  also  represented  so 
admirably  well  that  to  him  who  looks  at  them 
from  below  they  appear  to  be  paintings  in  oil. 
There  are  besides  numerous  small  pictures  by  those 
artists,  and  these  are  filled  with  figures  which  look, 
I  do  not  say  like  paintings  only,  but  like  miniatures ; 
and  yet  they  are  made  of  stones  joined  together. 
There  are  portraits,  moreover,  of  various  person- 

^  The  Judgment  of  Solomon  is  by  Vincenzo  Bianchini. 

^  According  to  Federici,  these  brothers,  more  correctly 
called  Zuccati,  were  not  of  Treviso,  but  Da  Ponta ;  and  the 
name  of  the  one  was  not  Vincenzio,  but  Francesco. 

5 


THE  MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

ages,  ...  all  executed  so  carefully,  and  with  so 
much  harmony,  so  admirable  a  distribution  of  light 
and  shadow,  and  such  exquisite  tints  of  the  carna- 
tions (to  say  nothing  of  other  qualities),  that  no- 
better  or  more  perfect  works  of  the  kind  could 
possibly  be  conceived.  Bartolommeo  Bozza  has 
also  worked  on  the  Church  of  San  Marco;  he  is 
the  rival  of  the  Zuccheri,  and  has  acquitted  himself 
in  a  sufficiently  praiseworthy  manner.  But  that 
which  has  most  effectually  contributed  to  the  suc- 
cess of  all  these  artists  has  without  doubt  been  the 
superintendence  of  Titian,  with  the  designs  prepared 
for  these  mosaics  by  his  hand." 

There  seems  to  be  no  historical  foundation  for 
the  competition  described  in  the  later  chapters,  in 
which  each  competitor  was  required  to  produce  a 
Saint  Jerome  in  mosaic  work,  and  which  resulted 
in  the  rehabilitation  of  the  Zuccati;  but  a  Saint 
Jerome  (or  Girolamo)  in  mosaic  by  Francesco  is 
known  to  have  been  presented  to  the  Court  of 
SaVoy. 

Upon  the  facts  here  sketched,  the  author  has  con- 
structed a  romance  in  no  way  unworthy  of  her 
enduring  reputation.  Not  only  by  the  lifelike 
glimpses  it  affords  us  of  the  great  masters,  at  whose 
feet  have  sat  so  many  generations  of  artists,  nor 
6 


THE   MASTER   MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

by  its  vivid  pictures  of  outdoor  life  in  Venice — 
notably  the  celebration  of  the  Feast  of  Saint  Mark 
—  in  the  palmy  days  of  the  Serene  Republic,  does 
the  "  Master  Mosaic- Workers  "  attract  and  hold  our 
interest.  The  author  is  no  less  successful  in  dealing 
with  the  historical  personages  who  figure  in  her 
pages ;  in  portraying  the  strange  mixture  of  incor- 
ruptible honesty,  jealous  suspicion,  and  unsatisfied 
ambition  in  the  character  of  Bozza,  and  thereby 
suggesting  the  undiscovered  "  explanation  "  of  his 
actions;  in  depicting  the  constant  struggle  in  the 
heart  of  old  Sebastiano  Zuccato  between  his  affection  * 
for  his  sons  and  his  pride  in  their  talent,  and  his 
contempt  for  what  was  in  his  eyes  a  degrading  pro- 
fession; and  if  she  has  painted  the  Bianchini  in 
somewhat  darker  colors  than  history  seems  to  war- 
rant, we  can  easily  make  excuses  for  her,  because 
their  treacherous  machinations  serve  to  bring  out 
in  bolder  relief  the  sentiment  which  appeals  most 
strongly  to  our  emotions.  The  author  tells  us  that 
she  promised  the  poor  child  who  had  read  nothing 
but  "Paul  and  Virginia,"  that  she  would  write  a 
story  for  him  in  which  there  should  be  no  love,  and 
in  which  everything  should  end  happily.  She  was 
true  to  her  promise,  if  the  word  "love"  is  taken 
in  its  ordinary  acceptation  as  applied  to  the  art  of 
7 


THE  MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

novel-writing;  but  it  would  be  hard  to  conceive  a 
truer,  holier  affection  between  man  and  woman 
than  that  which  united  the  brothers  Zuccato, — 
which  led  Valerio  to  share  his  brother's  imprison- 
ment, and  Francesco  to  exclaim,  when  his  brother's 
work  was  adjudged  more  meritorious  than  his  own, 
**  I  drink  to  my  master,  Valerio  Zuccato  I " 


PREFACE. 

T  WROTE  the  "Master  Mosaic- Workers "  in  1837 
for  my  son,  who  had  as  yet  read  but  one  romance, 
"  Paul  and  Virginia."  That  story  was  too  trying 
for  the  nerves  of  a  poor  little  child.  He  cried  so 
much  that  I  promised  to  write  him  a  romance  in 
which  there  should  be  no  love,  and  where  every- 
thing should  turn  out  for  the  best.  To  add  a  little 
instruction  to  his  pastime,  I  took  a  real  fact  in  the 
history  of  art.  The  adventures  of  the  mosaic- 
workers  of  St.  Mark's  are  in  the  main  true.  I 
have  woven  in  but  a  few  embellishments,  and  have 
developed  some  characters  which  history  only 
touches  on. 

I  do  not  know  v/hy,  but  I  have  written  few  books 
with  so  much  pleasure  as  this.    It  was  in  the  country, 
during  a  summer  as  warm  as  the  climate  of  Italy, 
9 


AUTHOR'S  PREFACE. 

which  I  had  just  left.  I  had  never  seen  so  many 
flowers  and  birds  in  my  garden.  Liszt  was  playing 
on  the  ground  floor,  and  the  nightingales,  intoxi- 
cated with  music  and  sun,  sang  themselves  hoarse 
in  the  surrounding  lilacs. 

George  Sand. 

NOHANT,  May,  1852. 


TO  MAURICE  D. 

YOU  find  fault  with  me,  my  child,  for  always 
teliing  you  stories  which  end  unhappily  and 
make  you  sad,  or  with  narratives  so  long,  so  long, 
that  you  fall  sound  asleep  in  the  midst  of  them.  Do 
you  think,  then,  little  one,  that  your  old  father  can 
have  cheerful  thoughts  after  such  a  severe  winter, 
after  a  spring  so  bleak,  so  cold,  so  productive  of 
rheumatism  ?  When  the  dreary  north  wind  moans 
in  our  old  fir  trees,  when  the  crane  utters  its  mourn- 
ful cry  at  the  sound  of  the  Angelus  saluting  the  dim 
and  chilly  dawn,  I  can  dream  only  of  blood  and 
misery.  Great  green  spectres  dance  about  my 
flickering  lamp,  and  I  arise  uneasily  to  drive  them 
from  your  bed.  But  the  time  is  past  when  children 
believed  in  ghosts.  You  smile  when  we  tell  you  of 
the  superstition  and  terror  which  surrounded  our 
childhood.  Ghost  stories  which  used  to  keep  us 
wide  awake  and  trembling  in  our  beds  until  the  dull 
break  of  day  make  you  smile,  and  you  sleep  on.  So 
II 


DEDICATION. 

you  want  a  simple  and  natural  story,  hey,  young 
man  ?  I  will  try  to  recall  one  of  those  which  the 
Abbe'  Panorio  related  at  Beppa,  when  I  was  in  Venice. 
The  Abbe  Panorio  was  of  your  opinion  regarding 
stories.  He  was  sated  with  the  fantastic.  The  con- 
fessions of  old  fanatical  women  had  made  him  look 
upon  witches  and  apparitions  with  horror.  Neither 
was  he  much  in  favor  of  sentimentality.  Love 
stories  seemed  to  him  very  fooHsh ;  but,  like  you, 
he  enjoyed  the  reveries  of  the  lovers  of  nature,  the 
labors  and  trials  of  artists.  His  stories  were  always 
founded  on  historic  fact;  and  if  they  sometimes 
made  us  sad,  they  ended  always  with  a  consoling 
truth  or  a  useful  lesson. 

It  was  during  the  beautiful  summer  nights,  by 
the  light  of  the  soft  full  moon  of  the  eastern  sea, 
that,  seated  under  an  arbor  all  abloom,  intoxicated 
with  the  perfume  of  grape  and  jasmine,  we  were 
enjoying  our  supper  from  midnight  until  two 
o'clock  in  the  gardens  of  Santa-Margarita.  Our 
companions  were  Assem  Zuzuf,  an  honest  merchant 
of  Corcyra,  Seigneur  Lelio,  the  leading  singer  in 
the  Fenice  Theatre,  Dr.  Acroceronius,  the  charming 
Beppa,  and  the  excellent  Abbe'  Panorio.  A  nightin- 
gale sang  in  its  green  cage  suspended  from  the  arbor 
which  sheltered  our  table.    At  the  sherbet,  Beppa 

12 


DEDICATION. 

tuned  a  lute,  and  sang  with  a  voice  even  more  melo- 
dious than  that  of  the  nightingale.  The  jealous  bird 
often  interrupted  him  with  precipitate  runs,  wild 
outbursts  of  melody,  or  lyric  declamation.  Then 
we  extinguished  the  candles,  and  the  nightingale  was 
silent.  The  moon  tinted  with  delicate  sapphires  and 
bluish  diamonds  the  crystals  and  silver  flagons 
spread  before  us.  Afar  we  heard  the  voluptuous 
swell  of  the  sea,  breaking  against  the  flowery  beach, 
and  now  and  then  the  breeze  wafted  to  us  the 
sound  of  the  slow,  monotonous  recitative  of  the 
gondoliers :  — 

"  Intanto  la  bella  Erminia  fugge,"  etc.i 

Then  the  abbe  told  us  of  the  happy  days  of  the 
Republic  and  its  lordly  customs,  when  his  fatherland 
was  at  the  zenith  of  its  glory  and  power.  At  other 
times,  also,  he  had  taken  pleasure  in  recalling  its 
gayety  and  pomp.  Although  young,  the  abb^  knew 
the  history  of  Venice  better  than  her  oldest  inhabit- 
ants. He  had  lovingly  studied  it  in  her  monuments 
and  public  documents.  He  had  also  enjoyed  search- 
ing her  popular  traditions  for  the  details  regarding 
the  lives  of  some  of  her  greatest  artists.  One  day 
he  told  us  a  little  anecdote  relating  to  Tintoretto  and 

1  "  In  the  mean  time,  the  beautiful  Erminie  nms  (away)." 
13 


DEDICATION. 

Titian,  which  I  shall  try  to  recall,  if  this  warm  breeze 
swaying  our  linden  trees,  and  the  lark  continuing  his 
ecstatic  song  among  the  clouds,  are  not  interrupted 
by  a  gale,  and  if  the  breath  of  spring  opening  our 
lazy  roses  and  expanding  my  heart  deigns  to  blow 
over  us  until  to-morrow  morning. 


H 


THE  MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
I. 

^'OELIEVE  me,  Messer  Jacopo,  I  am  a  most  un- 
■L-^  happy  father.  I  shall  never  be  consoled  for 
this  disgrace.  We  live  in  an  age  of  decadency. 
Hereditary  prestige  no  longer  prevails.  In  my  time 
every  one  tried  to  equal,  if  not  to  surpass,  his  par- 
ents. To-day,  provided  one  makes  a  fortune,  no 
one  considers  the  means,  no  one  fears  to  degrade 
the  established  standard.  The  nobleman  turns 
shopkeeper;  the  master,  workman;  the  architect, 
mason;  the  mason,  hod-carrier.  Where  will  it  all 
end,  holy  Mother  of  God  ? " 

Thus  spoke  Messire  Sebastian  Zuccato,  a  painter 
forgotten  to-day,  but  noted  in  his  time  as  the 
teacher  of  the  illustrious  master,  Jacopo  Robusti, 
better  known  to  us  by  the  name  of  Tintoretto. 

"  Ah !   ah !  '*   replied  the  master,  who,  through 
habitual  preoccupation,  was  often  extremely  out- 
15 


THE  MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

spoken,  "  it  is  better  to  be  a  good  workman  than  a 
commonplace  master,  a  great  mechanic  than  a  poor 
artist,  a—" 

"Ah!  ah!  my  dear  master,"  exclaimed  old  Zuc- 
cato,  a  little  piqued,  "  do  you  mean  by  poor  artists, 
commonplace  painters,  the  syndic  of  painters,  the 
master  of  so  many  masters  who  are  the  glory  of 
Venice,  and  form  a  grand  constellation  where  you 
are  set  like  a  star  among  its  dazzling  rays,  but  where 
my  pupil  Titian  shines  with  no  less  lustre?" 

"  Oh !  oh  !  Master  Sebastian,"  replied  Tintoretto, 
calmly,  "  if  such  stars  and  such  constellations  shed 
their  lustre  on  the  Republic,  if  from  your  studio 
come  forth  so  many  great  masters,  beginning  with 
the  illustrious  Titian,  before  whom  I  bow  without 
jealousy  or  resentment,  we  do  not  live  in  an  age 
of  decadency,  as  you  said  just  now." 

"Ah,  well!  of  course,"  said  the  dolorous  old 
man,  impatiently,  "  it  is  a  good  age,  a  fine  age  for 
the  arts.  But  I  cannot  console  myself  with  having 
contributed  to  its  glory  and  being  the  last  to  enjoy 
it.  What  is  it  to  me  to  have  produced  a  Titian  if 
no  one  remembers  it,  and  no  one  cares  ?  Who  will 
know  it  a  hundred  years  hence.?  Even  to-day  no 
one  would  know  it  but  for  the  gratitude  of  this 
great  man,  who  goes  about  everywhere  singing  my 
i6 


THE  MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

praises  and  calling  me  his  dear  compeer.  But  what 
does  it  all  amount  to?  Ah!  why  did  not  Heaven 
allow  me  to  be  the  father  of  Titian,  that  he  might 
be  called  Zuccato,  or  I  be  called  Vecelli  ?  At  least,  my 
name  would  live  from  age  to  age,  and  a  thou'sand 
years  hence  they  would  say, '  The  head  of  that  line 
was  a  good  master.'  But  I  have  two  sons  false  to 
my  honor,  faithless  to  the  noble  Muses, — two  sons 
full  of  brilliant  talent,  who  should  have  made  my 
glory,  who  perhaps  would  have  ecHpsed  Giorgione, 
Schiavone,  the  Bellini,  Veronese,  Titian,  and  even 
Tintoretto  himself.  Yes,  I  venture  to  say  that, 
with  their  natural  talents,  and  the  advice  which, 
in  spite  of  my  age,  I  still  think  I  could  give  them, 
they  might  efface  their  ignominy,  quit  the  ladder 
of  the  workman,  and  mount  the  scaflfold  of  the 
painter.  It  is  for  you  then,  my  dear  master,  to 
give  me  a  new  proof  of  the  friendship  with  which 
you  honor  me,  by  joining  Messer  Tiziano  in  a  last 
effort  to  curb  the  erring  minds  of  these  unfortunate 
boys.  If  you  can  reclaim  Francesco,  he  will  take  it 
upon  himself  to  bring  back  his  brother ;  for  Valerio 
is  a  young  man  without  brains,  I  should  say  almost 
without  capacity,  if  he  were  not  my  son,  and  if 
he  had  not  occasionally  given  proof  of  intelligence 
by  the  fresco  friezes  he  has  drawn  on  the  walls  of 
17 


THE   MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

his  studio.  My  Checo  is  a  very  different  man.  He 
can  handle  the  brush  like  a  master,  and  knows  how 
to  impart  to  other  artists  those  grand  conceptions 
which  they,  and  even  you,  as  you  have  often  told 
me,  Messer  Jacopo,  do  but  execute.  In  addition  to 
this,  he  is  refined,  energetic,  persevering,  restless, 
and  ambitious.  He  has  all  the  qualifications  of 
a  great  artist.  Alas!  I  shall  never  understand 
how  he  has  allowed  himself  to  follow  such  an  evil 
course." 

''I  will  do  what  you  wish,"  replied  Tintoretto; 
"  but,  first,  I  will  tell  you  in  all  conscience  what  I 
think  of  your  bitter  opposition  to  the  profession 
your  sons  have  embraced.  The  mosaic  art  is  not, 
as  you  call  it,  a  low  vocation;  it  is  a  true  art, 
brought  from  Greece  by  able  masters,  of  whom  we 
should  speak  only  with  deep  respect;  for  this  art 
alone  has  preserved  to  us,  still  more  than  that  of 
painting  on  metal,  the  lost  traditions  of  Byzantine 
art.  If  it  has  transmitted  them  to  us  altered  and 
hardly  recognizable,  it  is  none  the  less  true  that 
without  it  they  would  have  been  lost  entirely. 
Canvas  does  not  outlast  the  ravages  of  time. 
Apelles  and  Zeuxis  have  left  only  names.  What 
gratitude  should  we  not  feel  to-day  towards  those 
courageous  artists,  had  they  but  immortalized  their 
i8 


THE  MASTER   MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

works  by  the  aid  of  crystal  and  marble !  More- 
over, the  mosaic-work  has  preserved  to  us  intact 
the  traditions  of  color;  and  herein,  so  far  from 
being  inferior  to  painting,  it  has  this  advantage 
which  cannot  be  dented:  it  resists  the  wear  and 
tear  of  time,  as  well  as  the  ravages  of  the  atmos- 
phere—  " 

"  Since  it  resists  so  wel\"  interrupted  old  Zuccato 
testily,  "  how  comes  it  that  the  Seigniory  is  repair- 
ing all  the  domes  of  St.  Mark's,  which  to-day  are 
as  bare  as  my  skull?" 

"  Because,  at  the  time  when  they  were  decorated 
with  mosaics,  Greek  artists  were  scarce  in  Venice. 
They  came  from  a  distance,  and  remained  but  a 
short  time.  Their  apprentices  were  hastily  trained, 
and  executed  the  works  intrusted  to  them  without 
knowing  their  business,  and  without  being  able  to 
give  to  them  the  necessary  solidity.  Now  that  this 
art  has  been  cultivated  in  Venice  century  after  cen- 
tury, we  have  become  as  skilful  as  the  Greeks  ever 
were.  The  works  of  your  son  Francesco  will  be 
handed  down  to  posterity,  and  he  will  be  blessed  for 
having  placed  upon  the  walls  of  our  basilica  imper- 
ishable frescos.  The  canvas  upon  which  Titian  or 
Veronese  have  flung  their  masterpieces  will  crumble 
to  dust,  and  a  day  will  come  when  our  great  mas- 
19 


THE  MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

ters  will  be  known  only  by  the  mosaics  of  the 
Zuccati." 

"  Indeed,  then/'  said  the  obstinate  old  man,  "you 
might  as  well  say  that  Scarpone,  my  shoemaker,  is 
a  greater  master  than  the  Almighty ;  for  my  foot, 
which  is  the  work  of  the  Divinity,  will  crumble  to 
ashes,  while  my  shoe  will  retain  for  ages  the  form 
and  impress  of  my  foot." 

"  But  the  color,  Messer  Sebastian,  the  color  I 
Your  comparison  is  worthless.  What  material  man- 
ufactured by  the  hand  of  man  could  preserve  the 
exact  color  of  your  flesh  for  an  unlimited  time,  — 
while  stone  and  metal,  primitive  and  unchangeable 
substances,  retain  to  the  last  grain  of  powder  the 
Venetian  color,  the  most  beautiful  in  all  the  world, 
before  which  Buonarotti  and  all  his  Florentine  school 
are  forced  to  lower  the  flag  ?  No,  no,  you  are  in 
the  wrong.  Master  Sebastian,  you  are  unjust,  if  you 
do  not  say, '  Honor  to  the  engraver,  the  depositary 
and  propagator  of  correct  drawing !  Honor  to 
the  mosaic-worker,  the  guardian  and  preserver  of 
color ! ' " 

"  I  am  your  humble  servant,"  replied  the  old  man. 
"Thanks  for  your  good  advice,  Messer.  It  only 
remains  for  me  to  beseech  you  to  see  that  my  name 
is  engraved  upon  my  tomb  with  the  title  Pictoi;  so 

20 


THE  MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

that  it  may  be  known,  a  year  after,  that  there  was  in 
Venice  a  man  of  my  name  wiio  handled  the  brush 
and  not  the  trowel." 

"Tell  me,  Messer  Sebastian,"  replied  the  kindly 
master,  interrupting  him,  "  have  you  not  seen  the 
last  works  executed  by  your  sons  in  the  interior  of 
the  basilica?" 

"God  preserve  me  from  ever  seeing  Francesco 
and  Valerio  Zuccato  hoisted  up  by  a  rope  Uke 
slaters,  cutting  enamel  and  handling  mastic ! " 

"But  you  know,  my  dear  Sebastian,  that  these 
works  have  obtained  the  greatest  praise  from  the 
Senate,  and  the  highest  compensation  from  the 
Republic?" 

**I  know,  Messer,"  answered  Zuccato  haughtily, 
"  that  there  is  on  the  ladders  of  the  basilica  of  St. 
Mark  a  young  man  who  is  my  oldest  son,  who  for 
a  hundred  ducats  a  year  abandons  the  noble  profes- 
sion of  his  fathers,  in  spite  of  the  reproaches  of  his 
conscience  and  the  humiliation  of  his  pride.  I  know 
that  there  walks  the  streets  of  Venice  a  young  man 
who  is  my  second  son,  who,  in  order  to  pay  for  his 
idle  pleasures  and  foolish  extravagance,  consents 
to  sacrifice  all  his  pride,  hire  himself  out  to  his 
brother,  throw  aside  the  much  too  elegant  apparel 
of  the  debauchee  for  the  much  too  humble  garb  of 

21 


THE  MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

the  workman,  set  himself  up  for  a  nobleman  in  the 
gondolas  in  the  evening,  and  play  the  part  of  a 
mason  all  day,  and  all  to  pay  for  the  supper  and 
serenade  of  the  evening  before.  This  I  know, 
Messer,  and  I  know  nothing  more." 

"And  I  tell  you.  Master  Sebastian,"  replied  Tin- 
toretto, "that  you  have  two  good  and  noble  sons, 
two  excellent  artists,  one  of  whom  is  industrious, 
patient,  original,  painstaking,  in  fact,  an  acknowl- 
edged master  in  his  art ;  while  the  other,  lovable, 
upright,  genial,  full  of  talent  and  enthusiasm,  less 
steady  at  his  work  perhaps,  but  more  ready  with 
large  ideas  and  lofty  conceptions  — " 

"Yes,  yes,"  retorted  the  old  man,  "ready  with 
ideas,  and  with  words  even  more  so.  Oh,  yes,  I 
know  very  well  these  theoretical  people  who  feel 
art,  as  they  say,  who  explain  it,  define  it,  exalt  it, 
and  do  it  no  good.  These  are  the  lepers  of  the 
studio.  They  make  the  noise,  others  do  the  work. 
They  come  of  too  noble  a  race  to  work,  or  else  they 
have  so  much  talent  they  do  not  know  what  to  do 
with  it.  Inspiration  is  the  death  of  them.  So,  lest 
they  should  be  too  much  inspired,  they  prattle  and 
walk  the  streets  from  morning  till  night.  Appar- 
ently it  is  for  fear  the  emotion  of  art  and  manual 
labor  will  injure  his  health,  that  my  son  Valerio  does 

22 


THE  MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

nothing  with  his  ten  fingers,  and  lets  his  brains  run 
away  through  his  lips.  This  boy  always  makes  me 
think  of  a  piece  of  canvas  on  which  some  one  has 
drawn,  day  after  day,  the  first  lines  of  a  sketch 
without  taking  the  pains  to  erase  the  preceding  ones, 
presenting,  after  a  little  while,  the  odd  spectacle  of 
a  multitude  of  incoherent  Unes,  each  one  of  which 
might  have  had  an  intention  and  an  end,  but  not 
one  of  which  would  the  artist,  plunged  in  chaos,  be 
able  either  to  seize  again  or  carry  on." 

"  I  admit  that  Valerio  is  a  little  dissipated  and 
somewhat  lazy,"  replied  the  master.  "I  shall  take 
it  upon  myself  to  reproach  him  with  this  once 
more,  taking  advantage  of  the  paternal  right  which 
he  himself  has  given  me  by  engaging  himself 
voluntarily  to  my  little  Marie." 

"And  you  permit  this  levity?"  said  the  old 
painter,  illy  disguising  the  secret  pleasure  this  cir- 
cumstance caused  him,  confirmed  by  the  mouth  of 
Robusti  himself.  "You  allow  an  artisan  —  not 
even  an  artisan,  an  apprentice — to  dare  to  aspire, 
even  in  jest,  to  the  hand  of  your  daughter  ?  Messer 
Jacopo,  I  tell  you  that,  if  I  had  a  daughter,  and  if 
Valerio  Zuccato  instead  of  being  my  son  were  my 
nephew,  I  should  not  permit  him  to  place  himself  in 
the  ranks  of  her  wooers." 
23 


THE   MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

"  Oh,  that  concerns  my  wife,"  answered  Robusti. 
**  It  will  concern  my  daughter,  when  she  shall  be  old 
enough  to  marry.  Marie  will  have  talent,  consider- 
able talent.  I  trust  she  will  soon  make  portraits 
that  I  shall  dare  to  sign,  and  which  posterity  will 
not  hesitate  to  attribute  to  me.  I  hope  she  will 
make  an  illustrious  name,  and  thereby  win  an 
honored  position.  The  heritage  of  an  independent 
fortune  is  assured  to  her  through  my  work.  So, 
whether  she  marries  Valerio  the  apprentice,  or  Bar- 
tolommeo  Bozza  the  apprentice  of  the  apprentice,  if 
it  seems  good  to  her,  she  will  always  be  Marie 
Robusti,  the  daughter,  pupil,  and  continuator  of 
Tintoretto.  There  are  girls  who  can  marry  to  their 
liking,  and  not  for  their  advantage.  Young  patri- 
cian girls  care  more  for  their  pages  than  for  the 
illustrious  alliances  offered  them.  Marie  is  patrician 
in  her  way.  Let  her  act  so.  You  know  the  child 
has  a  fancy  for  Valerio." 

Old  Zuccato  shook  his  head,  and  did  not  answer, 
not  wishing  to  manifest  his  joy  and  gratitude. 
However,  the  master  perceived  a  great  softening  in 
his  manner ;  and,  after  a  sufficiently  long  discussion, 
in  which  Sebastian  defended  himself  step  by  step, 
but  with  less  asperity  than  in  the  beginning,  he 
ended  by  letting  himself  be  taken  to  the  basilica  of 
24 


THE  MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

St.  Mark,  where  the  brothers  Zuccati  were  at  that 
time  completing  the  great  mosaic  of  the  dome  over 
the  inner  door  of  the  main  entrance.  The  figures, 
taken  from  the  visions  of  the  Apocalypse,  were 
executed  after  the  very  cartoons  of  Titian  and 
Tintoretto. 


2S 


II. 


\1  7HEN  old  Zuccato  entered  beneath  this  oriental 
^  »  cupola,  where,  on  a  foundation  of  shining 
gold,  the  colossal  figures  of  the  prophets  and  Apoca- 
lyptic phantoms  loomed  like  terrible  apparitions 
evoked  in  their  dreams,  he  was  seized,  in  spite  of 
himself,  with  a  superstitious  fear,  and,  the  emotion 
of  the  artist  giving  place  for  a  moment  to  a  reli- 
gious feeling,  he  crossed  himself,  saluted  the  altar, 
the  golden  metal  of  which  shone  dimly  at  the  farther 
end  of  the  sanctuary,  and,  laying  his  cap  on  the 
pavement,  recited  inaudibly  a  short  prayer. 

When  he  had  finished,  he  arose  painfully  from  his 
knees,  which  were  stiffened  with  age,  and  ventured 
to  cast  his  eyes  on  the  figures  of  the  four  Evan- 
gelists, which  were  the  nearest  to  him.  But,  as  his 
sight  was  dim,  he  could  only  take  in  the  general 
effect,  and,  turning  to  Tintoretto,  he  said :  — 

"  It  cannot  be  denied  that  these  great  masses  are 
impressive.    Pure  charlatanism,  after  all.  —  Ah !  ah ! 
Monsieur,  is  that  you?" 
26 


THE  MASTER  MOSAIC- WORKERS. 

These  last  words  were  addressed  to  a  tall,  pale 
young  man,  who,  hearing  the  cupola  re-echo  the 
sharp,  broken  tones  of  his  father's  voice,  had  hastily 
come  down  from  his  scaffolding  to  meet  him. 
Francesco,  having  struggled  gently  and  perseveringly 
against  his  father's  wishes,  had  ended  by  following 
his  vocation,  and  abstaining  from  frequent  inter- 
views which  could  but  rekindle  this  subject  of  dis- 
cord. But  he  was  on  all  occasions  humble  and 
respectful  towards  the  author  of  his  being.  In  order 
to  give  him  a  more  suitable  welcome,  he  had  hastily 
washed  his  face  and  hands,  thrown  aside  his  apron, 
and  donned  his  silk  mantle  embroidered  with  silver, 
which  one  of  his  young  apprentices  had  given  him. 
Thus  attired,  he  was  as  handsome  and  elegant  as  the 
most  fashionable  of  noblemen.  But  his  thoughtful 
face  and  the  gravity  of  his  smile  evinced  the  exalted 
conscientiousness  and  sacred  self-respect  of  the 
artist. 

Old  Zuccato  eyed  him  from  head  to  foot,  and, 
struggling  with  his  feelings,  said  ironically:  "Ah, 
well,  Monsieur,  how  shall  we  manage  in  order  to 
admire  your  masterpieces  ?  If  they  were  not  glued 
to  the  wall  body  and  soul,  we  might  ask  you  to 
detach  some  of  them.  But  you  have  better  under- 
stood what  is  for  the  interest  of  your  glory,  by 
27 


THE  MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

placing  them  all  so  high  that  no  eye  can  reach 
them." 

"  Father/'  replied  the  young  man,  modestly, "  the 
happiest  day  of  my  life  would  be  that  on  which 
these  feeble  productions  might  obtain  from  you 
a  look  of  indulgence.  But  your  strong  will  is  a 
much  greater  obstacle  than  the  distance  which 
separates  you  from  this  dome.  If  it  were  in  my 
power  to  overcome  your  prejudice,  I  do  not  doubt 
that,  with  my  brother's  assistance,  I  could  succeed 
in  leading  you  to  the  top  of  these  planks,  where  you 
could  take  in  at  one  glance  all  the  figures  which  are 
hidden  from  you  at  this  moment." 

"  Your  brother  ! "  said  the  old  growler.  "  And 
where  is  your  brother?  Will  he  not  condescend 
to  come  down  from  his  sky  of  glass-ware,  to  wel- 
come me  in  his  turn  ? " 

"  My  brother  has  gone  out,"  said  Francesco ; 
"otherwise  he  would  have  hastened,  like  me,  to 
change  his  clothes  and  come  to  kiss  your  hand.  I 
expect  him  every  moment,  and  he  will  be  very 
happy  to  find  you  here." 

"  Doubtless  he  will  come  gay  and  singing  as  usual, 

will  he  not,  his  cap  on  one  side,  his  eye  restless,  his 

gait  unsteady  ?    A  workman  who  absents  himself 

at  working  hours  to  go  to  the  tavern  will  be  a 

28 


THE  MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

very  safe  guide,  I  think,  to  lielp  me  in  climbing 
your  ladders." 

"Father,  Valeric  is  not  at  the  tavern.  He  has 
gone  for  some  material  for  our  work.  I  sent  him 
to  the  factory  to  get  some  patterns  of  enamel  wliich 
had  to  be  prepared  expressly  for  me,  the  exact  shade 
of  which  is  very  hard  to  obtain." 

"In  that  case  you  will  wish  him  good  day  for 
me.  It  is  full  two  leagues  from  here  to  Murano, 
and  the  tides  are  contrary,  which  may  be  under- 
stood in  two  ways.  This  is  why  he  will  have  drunk 
so  much  wine  in  the  company  of  his  oarsmen ;  and 
the  oar  will  be  no  better  implement  in  his  hands 
to-day  than  the  trowel." 

"  Father,  some  one  has  made  false  statements  to 
you  in  regard  to  Valerio,"  replied  the  young  man, 
earnestly.  "  He  loves  pleasure  and  Cyprus  wine,  I 
admit,  but  he  is  none  the  less  diligent  in  conse- 
quence. He  is  an  excellent  workman,  and  when  I 
charge  him  with  a  commission,  he  performs  it  with 
a  precision  and  understanding  that  leave  nothing  to 
be  desired." 

"  Valerio  I    here   is   Messer    Valerio ! "    cried   a 

voice  from  the  top  of  the  scaffoldings.     It  was 

the  voice  of  Bartolommeo,  the   apprentice,  who, 

through  one  of  the  lights  in  the  cupola,  had  seen 

29 


.    THE  MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERSo 

the  disembarkation  from  the  gondolas  at  the  steps 
of  the  Piazzetta. 

A  few  moments  after,  Valerio  entered  the  basilica, 
followed  by  his  workmen  carrying  a  large  basket  of 
glass-ware.  He  was  singing  in  a  clear  and  resonant 
voice,  with  none  too  much  respect  for  the  holy 
place,  the  refrain  of  a  love  song.  But  as  soon  as 
he  saw  his  father  he  lifted  his  cap  and  stopped 
singing.  Then  he  approached  him  without  embar- 
rassment, and  embraced  him  with  the  confidence 
and  candor  of  an  upright  soul. 

Zuccato  was  struck  with  his  steadiness,  and  his 
bright  and  guileless  manner. 

Valerio  was  the  handsomest  fellow  in  Venice. 
He  was  not  so  tall,  but  better  proportioned  and 
more  robust  than  his  brother.  His  fine  face  ex- 
pressed at  a  first  glance  only  good  nature,  courage, 
and  frankness.  It  required  some  attention  to  dis- 
cover in  his  great  blue  eyes  the  sacred  fire  that 
slumbered  there,  often  under  a  shade  of  quiet  indif- 
ference, whose  lustre,  although  not  altered,  was  at 
least  veiled,  by  a  slight  expression  of  fatigue. 

This  half-pallor  ennobled  his  beauty  and  tempered 
the  serene  audacity  of  his  look.  He  was  exceed- 
ingly particular  in  his  dress,  and  set  the  fashion  for 
the  most  brilliant  lords  of  the  Republic.  He  was 
30 


THE  MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

sought  after  by  them  and  by  the  ladies  on  account 
of  his  talent  for  composing  and  designing  ornaments, 
which  were  afterwards  executed  under  his  direction, 
in  gold  and  silver  embroidery  on  the  richest  mate- 
rials. A  velvet  cap  surrounded  by  a  Grecian  pat- 
tern after  the  style  of  Valerio  Zuccato,  the  fringe  of 
a  dress  made  after  his  models,  the  border  of  a 
mantle  of  cloth  of  gold  in  shaded  silk  embroidery 
interwoven  with  chains  or  flowers  or  leaves  after 
the  manner  of  his  Byzantine  mosaics,  were,  in  the 
eyes  of  a  lady  of  rank  or  a  polished  nobleman, 
objects  of  the  first  necessity.  Valerio  made  consid- 
erable money  by  this  occupation,  which  diverted  him 
after  his  labors  and  pleasures,  and  which  he  carried 
on  in  his  little  studio  at  Santi-Filippo-e-Giacomo, 
under  the  shadow  of  a  certain  mystery,  into  which, 
however,  every  one  was  benevolently  initiated.  His 
striking  appearance,  his  amiability,  his  relations  with 
the  noble  lords  and  the  happy  workmen  that  filled 
his  studio  at  all  hours,  would  necessarily  have  drawn 
him  into  a  life  of  pleasure,  had  not  his  natural 
activity  and  his  fidelity  in  filling  all  professional 
engagements  preserved  him  from  falling  into  ex- 
cesses which  would  have  ruined  his  genius. 

A  tender  and  unalterable  friendship  united  the 
two  brothers.    They  succeeded  in  conquering  the 
31 


THE  MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

feigned  repugnance  of  old  Zuccato,  and,  having 
erected  two  ladders,  one  on  either  side  of  that  on 
which  he  ventured  to  ascend,  they  supported  him, 
and  took  him  to  the  very  last  staging  of  their  scaf- 
folding. Tintoretto,  already  old,  but  still  sure-footed 
and  accustomed  to  making  his  studio  in  the  vast 
cupolas  of  the  basilica,  had  followed  them,  in  order 
to  witness  the  surprise  of  Sebastian.  The  feeling  of 
religious  terror  which  the  old  man  had  experienced 
at  first,  gave  place  to  an  involuntary  ecstasy  when, 
having  arrived  on  a  level  with  the  imposing  figures 
of  the  Prophets  and  Evangelists,  which  occupied  the 
first  tier,  he  saw  all  the  completed  portions  of  this 
wonderful  composition.  Here  was  the  Translation 
of  the  Virgin  treated  after  Salviati ;  farther  on,  the 
Resurrection  of  Lazarus,  a  frightful  scene,  where 
the  corpse,  clothed  in  the  pure  tone  of  the  winding 
sheet,  seemed  to  float  with  uncertainty  on  the  bril- 
liant background  of  the  wall.  Titian's  Saint  Mark, 
a  massive  figure  borne  by  the  crescent  moon  as  if 
in  a  boat,  seemed  raised  to  the  resplendent  heavens 
by  an  ascending  movement  perceptible  to  the  eye ; 
the  great  festoon  of  the  arch,  supported  by  beau- 
tiful winged  angels,  and,  above  all  these  numerous 
chefs-d'oeuvre,  the  Vision  of  Saint  John,  where  the 
damned  are  precipitated  into  hell,  while  the  elect 
32 


THE  MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

of  the  Lord,  clothed  in  white  and  mounted  on  white 
horses,  vanish  in  the  subdued  splendor  and  mysteri- 
ous light  of  the  cupola,  like  a  flock  of  swans  in  the 
rosy  mists  of  morning. 

Zuccato  tried  again  to  wrestle  with  the  admiration 
which  he  felt,  by  attributing  the  cause  of  his  sudden 
emotion  to  the  effect  of  the  ligiit  playing  upon  the 
objects,  to  the  favorable  situation  and  the  imposing 
size  of  the  figures.  But  when  Tintoretto  prevailed 
upon  him  to  approach  the  festoon,  in  order  to 
appreciate  its  details,  he  was  obliged  to  admit  that 
he  never  would  have  believed  the  mosaic  art  capable 
of  such  perfection,  and  that  the  little  angels  flying 
among  the  garlands  would  rival  in  color  and  form 
the  paintings  of  the  greatest  masters. 

But,  always  stingy  of  his  praise,  and  indignant  at 
his  own  covert  satisfaction,  the  old  man  pretended 
that  the  only  merit  of  the  work  lay  in  its  correct- 
ness, and  in  the  great  amount  of  patience  bestowed 
upon  it. 

"  All  the  honor,"  said  he, "  belongs  to  the  masters 
who  drew  the  models  of  these  groups  and  designed 
the  details  of  these  decorations." 

"Father,"  replied  Francesco,  with  modest  pride, 
"  if  you  will  be  so  kind  as  to  allow  me  to  show  you 
the  cartoons  of  the  masters,  perhaps  you  will  give 
33 


THE  MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

us  credit,  if  not  of  having  created,  at  least  of  having 
understood  our  models  with  some  intelligence." 

"  I  wish  you  would,"  said  Tintoretto.  '*  I  wish 
my  cartoons  of  the  Apocalypse  to  be  the  proof  of 
the  talent  for  painting  which  distinguishes  Francesco 
and  Valerio  Zuccato  from  all  artists  of  their  class." 

Several  models  were  exhibited,  and  Sebastian 
could  convince  himself  of  the  intelligence  with 
which  the  Zuccati  worked  as  masters  after  masters, 
drawing  the  elegant  and  chaste  designs  of  their  sub- 
jects themselves,  and  creating  their  marvellous  color 
after  the  simple  suggestion  of  the  painter.  Valerio, 
after  a  little  urging  on  the  part  of  his  brother, 
acknowledged  himself  to  be  the  author  of  many 
little  figures,  and,  in  his  turn  divulging  Francesco's 
secret,  he  showed  his  father  two  beautiful  arch- 
angels flying  towards  each  other.  One,  enveloped  in 
green  drapery,  was  his  own  work ;  the  other,  dressed 
in  turquoise  blue,  was  the  v/ork  of  Francesco,  com- 
posed and  carried  out  without  the  assistance  of 
any  painter. 

Zuccato  allowed  himself  to  be  led  towards  these 
figures,  which  were  really  as  beautiful  as  any  of 
those  whose  models  had  been  furnished.  Francesco 
had  given  to  his  young  archangel  the  features  of  his 
brother  Valerio,  and  reciprocally  Valerio's  archangel 
34 


THE  MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

was  the  portrait  of  Francesco.  They  had  employed 
combinations  of  the  utmost  delicacy  in  executing 
this  cherished  work,  and  had  modestly  placed  it  in 
an  obscure  corner,  where  the  gaze  of  the  vulgar 
could  not  reach  it.  Old  Zuccato  remained  for  a 
long  time  motionless  and  dumb  before  this  winged 
pair,  and,  confounded  at  seeing  the  arrogant  error 
of  his  whole  life  so  gloriously  refuted,  he  flew  into  a 
violent  passion.  He  descended  the  ladder,  snatched 
his  cloak  roughly  from  the  hands  of  Valerio,  with- 
out deigning  to  say  a  word  of  encouragement  either 
to  him  or  to  his  brother,  and,  scarcely  noticing 
Tintoretto,  with  a  firmer  step  than  one  would  have 
expected  of  him  he  sprang  over  the  threshold  of  the 
basilica.  But  he  had  not  gone  down  the  first  step, 
when,  yielding  to  the  imperious  longing  of  his  soul, 
he  turned,  and,  opening  his  arms  to  his  two  sons, 
who  flung  themselves  into  them,  he  pressed  them 
for  a  long  time  to  his  heart,  bathing  with  his  tears 
their  beautiful  heads. 


35 


III. 


"/"^OME  on!  Long  life  to  good  luck!  By  the 
^^  body  of  the  devil,  the  work  progresses. 
Bring  me  some  mastic,  you  little  black  monkey! 
Maso  !  do  you  hear  me  ?  By  the  devil,  brother  Vin- 
cent, don't  monopolize  all  the  apprentices.  Send 
down  some  of  your  daubed-up  seraphim,  so  that  I 
may  not  be  delayed.  Ah,  by  the  blood  of  Bacchus  I 
if  I  throw  my  mallet  at  the  head  of  that  porpoise 
of  a  Maso,  I  fear  it  will  be  a  long  while  before  the 
Republic  sees  such  another  ugly  face !  " 

Thus  shouted  from  the  top  of  his  scaffoldings  a 
red-headed  giant,  who  was  directing  the  works  in 
the  Chapel  of  St.  Isidore,  that  part  of  the  basilica 
of  St.  Mark  having  been  intrusted  to  Dominique 
Bianchini,  called  the  Red,  and  his  two  brothers,  emu- 
lators and  rivals  of  the  Zuccati  brothers  in  the 
mosaic  art. 

"  Hold  your  tongue,  you  big  bawler !  Have  a 
little  patience,  carrot-top ! "  cried,  from  his  side,  the 
peevish  Vincent  Bianchini,  the  eldest  of  the  three 
36 


THE  MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

brothers.  "Haven't  you  got  your  apprentices? 
Make  them  stir  themselves,  and  let  mine  attend  to 
their  business.  Haven't  you  John  Viscentin,  that 
pretty  white  cheese  from  the  Alps?  Where  have 
you  sent  Reazo,  your  bully  with  a  cold  in  his  head, 
who  sings  so  fine  in  the  choir  on  Sundays ?  I'll 
wager  that  all  your  boys  are  running  to  the  tavern 
at  the  present  moment  to  get  a  bottle  of  wine  under 
cover  of  your  name.  If  that 's  so,  they  won't  come 
back  very  soon." 

"  Vincent,"  replied  Dominique, "  it 's  well  for  you 
you  are  my  brother  and  partner ;  for  I  could,  with 
one  stroke  of  my  foot,  smash  your  scaffolding, 
and  send  your  illustrious  person  and  all  your  fine 
apprentices  to  study  mosaic  on  the  pavement." 

"If  you  had  only  thought  of  it,"  said  the  rough 
voice  of  Gian  Antonio  Bianchini,  the  youngest  of 
the  three  brothers,  who  was  shaking  the  foot  of  the 
ladder  on  which  Dominique  was  working,  "  I  could 
prove  to  you  that  the  highest  perches  are  not  always 
the  safest.  Not  that  I  care  any  more  for  Vincent's 
hide  than  I  do  for  your  own,  but  I  do  not  like  brag- 
ging, do  you  understand;  and  for  some  days  past 
I  notice  that  you  have  assumed,  sometimes  towards 
him  and  sometimes  towards  me,  a  tone  that  is  not 
to  be  endured." 

37 


THE  MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

The  sullen  Dominique  looked  darkly  at  the  young 
Antonio,  and  let  himself  be  shaken  for  a  few  mo- 
ments without  saying  a  word.  Then,  as  soon  as 
Antonio  recommenced  grinding  his  cement  under 
the  portico,  he  came  down,  threw  aside  his  apron 
and  cap,  rolled  up  his  sleeves,  and  prepared  to  give 
him  a  sound  thrashing. 

The  priest,  Alberto  Zio,  who  was  also  a  distin- 
guished mosaic-worker,  and  who,  mounted  on  a 
ladder,  was  at  that  moment  repairing  one  of  the 
panels  of  the  outer  door,  hurried  down  to  separate 
the  combatants;  and  Vincent  Bianchini,  rushing 
from  the  end  of  the  chapel,  mallet  in  hand,  prepared 
to  take  part  in  the  fray,  more  from  a  feeling  of 
resentment  against  Dominique  than  through  any 
interest  in  Antonio. 

The  priest,  after  trying  in  vain  to  bring  them  back 
to  more  Christian  feelings,  in  order  to  quiet  them 
resorted  at  last  to  an  argument  which  seldom  failed 
of  its  effect. 

"  If  the  Zuccati  overhear  you,"  said  he,  "  they  will 
exult  in  your  quarrels,  and  imagine  that,  thanks  to 
their  amiability  and  good  sense,  they  work  better 
than  you  do." 

"  That 's  so,"  said  Dominique  the  Red,  putting  on 
his  apron  again.    "  We  '11  settle  this  affair  this  even- 


THE  MASTER  MOSAIC- WORKERS. 

ing  at  the  tavern.    For  the  present,  we  must  not  put 
weapons  in  the  hands  of  our  enemies." 

The  other  two  Bianchini  acquiesced  in  this  opin- 
ion ;  and  while  each  of  them  filled  his  raclette  with 
newly  prepared  cement,  Father  Alberto  entered  into 
conversation  with  them. 

"You  are  wrong,  my  children,"  said  he,  "in 
looking  upon  the  Zuccati  as  your  enemies.  They 
are  your  rivals,  that  is  all.  If  they  follow  different 
methods  from  yours,  they  appreciate  no  less  the 
merit  of  your  work.  Indeed,  I  have  often  heard 
their  first  apprentice,  Bartolommeo  Bozza,  say  that . 
your  cementation  is  of  a  superior  quality  to  theirs, 
and  that  the  Zuccati  candidly  acknowledge  it." 

"As  to  Bartolommeo  Bozza,"  replied  Vincent 
Bianchini,  "  I  say  nothing  against  him :  he  is  a  good 
workman  and  a  stanch  fellow.  I  am  on  the  point 
of  making  it  worth  his  while  to  engage  himself  in 
my  service.  But  do  not  talk  to  me  of  those  Zuccati. 
There  are  no  worse  intriguers  in  the  world,  and  if 
their  talent  were  equal  to  their  ambition  they  would 
surpass  all  their  rivals.  Fortunately  idleness  con- 
sumes them.  The  elder  wastes  his  time  imagining 
subjects  that  cannot  be  executed,  and  the  younger 
carries  on  a  contraband  work  at  San  Filippo,  and 
eats  the  fruit  of  it  with  people  above  his  station." 
39 


THE  MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

"The  star  of  the  Zuccati  could  be  made  to  fall 
from  the  clouds  in  spite  of  the  patronage  of  the 
painters,"  said  the  envious  Dominique,  "if  any  one 
cared  to  take  the  trouble." 

"How  so?"  exclaimed  the  other  two.  "If  you 
know  a  way  to  humiliate  them,  tell  it,  and  your 
insults  to  us  shall  be  forgiven." 

"I  care  no  more  for  you  than  for  them,"  said 
Dominique.  "  Only  I  say  that  it  is  not  impossible 
to  prove  that  they  do  not  earn  their  salary,  for  they 
are  doing  bad  work,  and  are  consequently  stealing 
the  public  funds." 

"  For  shame,  Messer  Dominique !  "  said  the  priest 
sternly.  "  Do  not  speak  so  of  two  men  who  enjoy 
the  public  esteem.  You  will  lead  people  to  think 
that  you  are  jealous  of  their  advantages." 

"Yes,  I  am  jealous  of  them,"  cried  Dominique^ 
stamping  his  foot.  "  And  why  should  n't  I  be  jeal- 
ous ?  Is  n't  it  an  injustice  on  the  part  of  the 
procurators  to  give  them  a  hundred  golden  ducats 
a  year  while  we  have  only  thirty, — we,  who  have 
worked  for  nearly  ten  years  on  the  genealogical  tree 
of  the  Virgin.?  I  venture  to  say  that  the  Zuccati 
could  not  have  accomplished  half  this  enormous 
work,  even  if  they  had  devoted  all  their  lives  to  it. 
How  many  months  does  it  take  them  to  make  the 
40 


THE  MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

breadth  of  a  dress,  or  a  child's  hand  ?  Just  watch 
them  for  a  while,  and  you  will  see  what  their  fine 
talent  costs  the  Republic." 

"They  get  on  less  quickly  than  you,  it  is  true," 
replied  the  priest.  "But  what  perfection  m  the 
design,  what  richness  in  the  color !  '* 

"If  you  were  not  a  priest,"  replied  Vincent, 
shrugging  his  shoulders,  "  one  would  know  how  to 
talk  to  you.  You  'd  better  go  back  to  your  con- 
fessional and  your  censer  than  be  judging  of  things 
of  which  you  know  nothing." 

"Messer,  how  dare  you  say  that?"  said  Alberto; 
slightly  offended.  "You  forget  that  I  understood 
the  business  before  you  had  the  first  notion  of  it, 
and  that  I  am  the  best  disciple  under  our  common 
master,  the  ingenious  Rizzo,  the  worthy  successor 
of  our  gypsoplast  masters." 

"  Ingenious  as  much  as  you  choose,  it  does  not 
require  much  imagination  to  work  in  mosaic.  It 
requires  what  you  lack,  —  you  and  your  other 
priests  and  those  lazy  Zuccati,  —  strong  arms,  loins 
of  iron,  precision,  and  activity.  Go  say  Mass,  Father 
Alberto,  and  let  us  alone." 

"  Hush !  no  noise  !  "  said  Antonio.  "  There 's 
that  sullen  old  Zuccato  going  by.  See  how  his  sons 
escort  him  back,  waving  their  caps  and  kissing  their 
41 


THE   MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

hands !  Would  n't  you  say  it  was  a  Doge  attended 
by  his  senators?  That  one  considers  himself  the 
most  illustrious  of  men,  and  he  does  not  know 
enough  to  let  the  cup  alone." 

"  Silence !  "  said  Vincent.  "  Here  comes  Messer 
Robusti  to  look  at  our  work." 

All  three  of  them  uncovered,  more  out  of  fear  of 
his  reputation  as  an  artist  than  through  any  respect 
for  his  genius,  which  they  were  not  capable  of 
appreciating.  Father  Alberto  went  to  meet  him, 
and  led  him  into  the  Chapel  of  St.  Isidore.  Tinto- 
retto glanced  at  the  incrusted  panels,  praised  the 
repairs  of  the  ancient  Greek  mosaics  confided  to 
the  priest,  and  withdrew,  bowing  profoundly  to  the 
Bianchini  without  speaking  to  them,  for  he  liked 
neither  them  nor  their  works. 


42 


IV. 


THE  day's  work  being  ended,  and  the  Zuccati 
having  supped  with  their  principal  apprentices, 
Bozza,  Marini,  and  Ceccato,  (who  later  on  became 
excellent  artists,)  in  a  little  hoUega}  where  they  were 
in  the  habit  of  meeting,  under  the  Procuraties? 
Valerio  was  preparing  to  hasten  to  his  business 
or  his  pleasures,  when  his  brother  detained  him, 
saying :  — 

"  For  to-day,  my  dear  Valerio,  you  must  sacrifice 
a  part  of  your  evening  to  me.  I  retire  early,  as  you 
know.  You  will  still  have  plenty  of  time  after  we 
have  talked." 

"  I  am  willing,"  said  Valerio, "  but  it  is  on  condi- 
tion that  we  take  a  skiff  and  have  a  little  row;  for  I 
feel  exhausted  after  the  day's  work,  and  cannot  rest 
from  one  fatigue  except  by  plunging  into  another." 

1  Shop  or  lunch-room. 

2  The  palace  of  the  Procurators,  still  in  existence,  near 
the  Doge's  palace. 

43 


THE  MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

"  I  do  not  know  how  to  assist  you  in  rowing," 
replied  Francesco :  "  I  have  not  your  robust  health, 
my  dear  Valerio,  and,  as  I  do  not  wish  to  miss  my 
work  to-morrow,  I  must  not  fatigue  myself  this 
evening ;  but,  seeing  that  if  I  refuse  you  this  diver- 
sion, I  cannot  prevail  upon  you  to  grant  me  two  or 
three  hours,  I  will  go  and  ask  Bozza  to  be  of  the 
party.  He  is  a  good  fellow,  and  will  not  be  in  the 
way  in  the  conversation  I  wish  to  have  with  you." 

Bartolommeo  Bozza  readily  accepted  this  invita- 
tion, and,  hauling  off  one  of  the  prettiest  boats,  he 
seized  one  oar,  while  Valerio  took  the  other.  Then, 
standing  each  at  either  extremity  of  the  little  skiff,  they 
started  it  on  its  course  with  a  vigorous  stroke,  and 
made  it  bound  over  the  foaming  waves.  It  was  the 
hour  when  the  fashionable  world  sought  enjoyment 
on  the  Grand  Canal  in  the  cool  air  of  the  evening. 
The  narrow  little  boat  glided  swiftly  and  stealthily 
among  the  gondolas,  like  a  sea  bird  which  flees  from 
the  pursuer,  darting  like  an  arrow  through  the  green 
grasses.  But  in  spite  of  the  agility  and  the  silence 
of  the  oarsmen,  all  eyes  were  fixed  upon  them,  and 
all  the  ladies  leaned  forward  on  their  cushions  that 
they  might  gaze  the  longer  upon  the  handsome 
^Valerio,  whose  grace  and  strength  excited  the  envy 
of  the  noblemen  as  well  as  of  the  gondoliers,  and 
44 


THE  MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

whose  countenance  showed  a  strange  mingling  of 
courage  and  artlessness. 

Bozza  was  also  strong  and  well  formed,  but  thin 
and  pale.  A  dull  fire  shone  in  his  black  eyes,  a 
thick  beard  covered  half  his  face,  and  although  his 
features  lacked  regularity  they  attracted  attention 
by  their  sad  and  haughty  expression. 

Thin  and  pale  also,  but  noble  and  not  proud,  mel- 
ancholy and  not  gloomy,  Francesco  Zuccato,  reclin- 
ing on  a  black  velvet  carpet  in  the  bottom  of  the 
boat,  supporting  himself  carelessly  on  his  elbow, 
wrapped  in  a  reverie  which  did  not  allow  him  to. 
give  much  thought  to  the  throng,  shared  with 
Valerio  the  admiration  of  the  ladies,  but  did  not 
perceive  it. 

When  these  three  young  men  had  gone  up  the 
length  of  the  canal,  they  floated  gently  into  the 
lagoon  far  from  frequented  places ;  then,  allowing 
themselves  to  drift,  they  lay  down  in  the  bottom 
of  the  boat,  under  a  beautiful  sky  studded  with  in- 
numerable stars,  and  talked  without  constraint. 

"My  dear  Valerio,"  said  the  elder  of  the  Zuccati, 
"  I  am  going  to  annoy  you  again  with  my  admoni- 
tions ;  but  it  is  absolutely  necessary  for  you  to  lead 
a  wiser  life." 

"You  never  could  annoy  me,  my  dearest  brother," 
45 


THE  MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

replied  Valerio,  "  and  your  anxiety  will  always  find 
me  grateful.  But  I  cannot  promise  you  to  alter 
my  ways,  I  am  so  contented  in  this  life  I  lead.  I  am 
as  happy  as  a  man  can  be.  Why  do  you  wish  me 
to  deprive  myself  of  happiness,  you  who  love  me 
so  much.?'* 

"This  life  will  kill  you,"  answered  Francesco. 
"  It  is  impossible  to  follow,  in  the  way  that  you  do,  a 
routine  of  pleasure  and  fatigue,  dissipation  and  work.' ' 

"On  the  contrary,  this  life  invigorates  me  and 
keeps  me  up,"  replied  Valerio.  "What  is  life  in  the 
designs  of  God,  if  not  a  continual  alternation  of 
pleasure  and  self-denial,  lassitude  and  activity  ?  Let 
me  go  on,  and  do  not  judge  my  strength  by  your 
own.  Nature  has  certainly  been  inconsistent  in  not 
giving  to  the  better  and  more  estimable  of  us  two 
the  stronger  constitution  and  the  livelier  disposi- 
tion. But  so  many  other  gifts  have  fallen  to  you, 
my  dear  Francesco,  that  you  cannot  very  well  envy 
me  these." 

"I  do  not  envy  you  them,"  said  Francesco, 
"although  they  are  the  most  precious  of  all,  and 
are  in  themselves  enough  to  make  one  happy.  It  is 
sweet  to  me  to  think  that  a  brother,  whom  I  love 
more  than  myself,  does  not  suffer  in  his  body  and 
soul  the  ills  and  weariness  that  prey  upon  me.  But 
46 


THE  MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

this  is  not  the  sole  question.  You  certainly  owe 
your  position  to  the  friendship  of  illustrious 
masters,  to  the  protection  of  the  Senate,  and  to 
the  kindness  of  the  Procurators." 

"  I,  my  brother  ? "  cried  the  indifferent  young>man. 
"Save  the  friendship  of  our  dear  comrade  Titian 
and  the  kindness  of  Robusti, — two  men  whom  I 
venerate,  —  save  the  affection  of  my  father  and  that 
of  my  brother,  which  I  prefer  to  everything  in  the 
world,  all  the  rest  is  in  my  eyes  of  little  account. 
Two  bottles  of  Cyprus  would  console  me  any  time 
for  the  loss  of  my  employment  and  the  disgrace  of  - 
the  Senate." 

"  At  least  you  value  honor,"  said  Francesco 
gravely,  "  the  honor  of  your  father's  name,  of  your 
own,  for  which  I  am  responsible,  and  to  which  my 
own  is  pledged." 

"  Certainly,"  said  Valerio,  quickly  raising  himself 
on  his  elbow.    "  What  are  you  driving  at  ? " 

"  To  tell  you  that  the  Bianchini  are  plotting 
against  us,  and  that  they  can  make  us  lose,  not 
only  the  advantageous  position  and  fine  salary  to 
which  you  have  the  wisdom  to  prefer  the  wine 
of  Cyprus  and  pleasure  parties,  but  also  the  con- 
fidence of  the  Senate,  and  consequently  the  respect 
of  the  citizens." 

47 


THE  MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

"By  Bacchus!"  said  Valerio,  "I  should  like  to 
see  them  do  it.  Let  us  go  and  find  these  Bianchini, 
if  that  is  the  case,  and  challenge  them.  They  are 
three;  our  friend  Bozza  will  be  our  third.  The 
right  is  on  our  side.  We  will  make  a  vow  to  the 
Madonna,  and  be  delivered  from  these  traitors." 

"That  would  be  all  foolishness,"  said  Francesco. 
"  The  Divine  Power  has  not  declared  itself  in  favor 
of  those  who  give  provocation,  and  we  should  be 
doing  so  if  we  were  to  call  to  combat  men  against 
whom  we  have  no  proven  grievance.  Moreover, 
the  Bianchini  would  respond  to  the  offer  to  cross 
swords  by  sharpening  their  stilettos  in  order  to  stab 
us  in  the  dark,  as  it  is  their  custom  to  do.  They 
are  insatiable  foes.  They  will  never  provoke  us 
openly  while  we  are  under  the  protection  of  those 
in  power,  and  when  they  let  us  know  they  hate  us, 
it  is  all  up  with  us.  Indeed,  this  is  what  I  am  a 
little  afraid  of.  Vincent,  always  so  polite  to  me, 
no  longer  bows  to  me  when  I  pass  before  his 
scaffolding.  This  morning,  as  we  were  escorting 
our  father  back  to  the  foot  of  the  steps  of  the 
basilica,  I  thought  1  saw  under  the  portico  the  three 
Bianchini  watching  us  maHciously  and  ridiculing  us. 
The  hatred,  for  a  long  time  pent  up  in  the  bottom 
of  their  souls,  begins  to  show  in  their  eyes.  Bozza 
48 


THE  MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

can  tell  you,  moreover,  that  many  a  time  after  the 
close  of  day,  or  in  the  morning  when  he  has  been 
the  first  to  come  to  work,  he  has  surprised  Vincent 
or  Dominique  Bianchini  on  our  scaffoldings,  study- 
ing with  the  closest  attention  the  least  details  of 
our  work.'* 

"  Bah !  all  that  proves  nothing.  If  they  do  not 
recognize  us,  it  is  because  they  are  naturally  rude. 
If  they  looked  askance  at  us  this  morning,  it  was 
because  they  envied  us  the  happiness  of  having  a 
good  father.  If  they  examine  our  work,  it  is  be- 
cause they  wish  to  ascertain  the  cause  of  our  supe-. 
riority.    Should  these  motives  cause  anxiety  ?" 

"Why,  then,  instead  of  talking  naturally  with 
Bozza  when  he  meets  them  on  the  scaffolding,  do 
they  hastily  withdraw  by  the  opposite  ladders  like 
guilty  people?" 

"  If  I  meet  them  myself,"  cried  Valerio,  clinching 
his  fist,  "  they  will  have  to  explain  themselves,  or, 
by  Bacchus !  I'll  make  them  come  down  faster  than 
they  went  up." 

"  That  would  only  increase  the  evil;  for  to  revenge 
the  one  whom  you  will  have  insulted  the  other  two 
will  league  themselves  against  you  until  death.  Be- 
lieve me,  *  Honesty  is  the  best  policy.'  Let  us  be 
calm,  and  sustain  the  noble  attitude  that  becomes  us 
49 


THE  MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

as  gentlemen.  A  generous-hearted  line  of  conduct 
may  perhaps  bring  them  round,  or  at  least  it  will 
prove  them  guilty  in  their  animosity,  and,  if  they 
persecute  us,  we  shall  obtain  redress." 

"But  indeed,  brother,  how  can  they  persecute 
us?  What  power  have  they  to  injure  us.^  Can 
they  prove  that  we  do  not  work  as  well  as 
they  do?" 

**  They  will  say  that  we  do  not  work  as  rapidly, 
and  it  will  be  easy  for  them  to  prove  it." 

"And  we  can  prove  that  it  is  easy  to  work 
quickly  when  one  works  badly,  and  that  perfection 
will  not  allow  of  haste." 

"  That  is  not  very  easy  to  prove.  Between  our- 
selves be  it  said,  the  Procurator-Cassiere  commis- 
sioned to  examine  the  work  is  not  an  artist.  He 
sees  in  mosaic  work  only  an  application  of  colored 
particles  more  or  less  brilliant.  Perfection  of  tone, 
beauty  of  design,  ingenuity  of  composition,  are 
nothing  to  him.  He  sees  what  strikes  the  fancy  of 
the  common  people,  the  brilliancy  and  rapidity  of 
the  work.  Did  I  not  try  in  vain  the  other  day  to 
make  him  understand  that  the  old  pieces  of  gilded 
crystal  used  by  our  ancestors,  and  a  little  tarnished 
by  time,  were  more  favorable  to  color  than  those 
manufactured  to-day  ?  *  Indeed,  you  make  a  mistake, 
50 


THE  MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

Messer  Francesco,'  said  he,  *  in  handing  over  to  the 
Bianchini  all  the  gold  of  modern  manufacture.  The 
commissioners  have  decided  that  the  old  will  do 
mixed  with  the  new.  I  cannot  see  why  you  keep 
the  earlier  ones  for  yourself.  Do  you  think  that  the 
mixture  of  the  old  with  the  new  would  have  a  bad 
effect  ?  If  so,  you  seem  to  consider  yourself  a  better 
judge  than  the  Procurators  of  the  Commission.'  " 

"And  I  could  hardly  help  laughing  at  you," 
interrupted  Valerio,  "when  you  answered  him  so 
seriously,  *  My  lord,  I  have  no  such  insolent 
pretensions.' " 

"  But  did  I  not  try  in  vain  to  make  him  understand 
that  this  brilliant  gold  hurt  the  faces,  and  completely 
ruined  the  effect  of  color?  that  my  drapery  could 
not  be  made  effective  except  on  gold  a  little  red  in 
tone  ?  and  that  if  I  had  made  use  of  shining  back- 
grounds, I  should  have  been  obliged  to  sacrifice  all 
the  shading,  and  to  make  the  flesh  violet  without 
modelling,  and  draperies  without  folds  and  without 
lights?" 

"  And  he  gave  you  an  unanswerable  reply  and  in 
a  very  dry  tone,"  said  Valerio,  laughing.  ***The 
Bianchini  do  not  scruple  to  do  it,'  said  he,  *  and  their 
mosaics  please  the  eye  much  better  than  yours.* 
What  need  of  worrying  yourself  after  such  a  decis- 
51 


THE  MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

ion  as  that  ?  Suppress  the  shadows,  cut  a  breadth 
of  material  from  a  great  plate  of  enamel  and  lay 
it  over  the  breast  of  Saint  Nicaise,  render  Saint 
Cecilia's  beautiful  hair  with  a  badly  cut  tile,  a  pretty 
lamb  for  Saint  John  the  Baptist  with  a  handful  of 
quicklime,  and  the  commission  will  double  your 
salary,  and  the  public  clap  its  hands.  Really,  my 
brother,  you  who  dream  of  glory,  I  do  not  under- 
stand how  you  can  pledge  yourself  to  the  worship 
of  art." 

"  I  dream  of  glory,  it  is  true,"  replied  Francesco, 
"but  of  a  glory  that  is  lasting,  and  not  the  vain 
popularity  of  a  day.  I  should  like  to  leave  an  hon- 
ored name,  if  not  an  illustrious  one,  and  make  those 
who  examine  the  cupolas  of  St.  Mark's  five  hun- 
dred years  hence  say,  *This  was  the  work  of  a 
conscientious  artist.' " 

"  And  who  tells  you  that  five  hundred  years  hence 
the  public  will  be  more  enlightened  than  it  is 
to-day  ?"  said  Bozza,  in  a  rough  voice,  breaking  the 
silence  for  the  first  time. 

"  At  least  there  will  be  connoisseurs  to  revise  the 
judgment  of  the  public,  and  it  is  the  connoisseurs 
of  all  time  that  it  is  my  ambition  to  please.  Is  it  a 
blameworthy  ambition,  Valerio  ? " 

"  It  is  a  noble  ambition,  but  it  is  an  ambition,  and 
52 


THE  MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

all  ambition  is  a  malady  of  the  soul,"  answered  the 
young  Zuccato. 

"  A  malady,"  replied  Francesco, "  without  which 
intelligence  would  have  nothing  to  feed  on,  and 
would  languish  in  the  dark  without  enlightening  the 
world.  It  is  the  wind  which  draws  the  spark  from 
the  charcoal,  which  fans  the  flame  and  spreads  it 
afar.  Without  this  celestial  breeze  there  would  be 
no  warmth,  no  light,  no  life." 

"I  do  not  consider  myself  dead,"  said  Vale- 
rio.  "  Nevertheless, '  this  tempestuous  breeze  has 
never  blown  over  me.  I  feel  that  the  spark  of 
life  radiates  at  all  times  through  my  heart  and  my 
bram.  Provided  I  am  warmed  by  the  divine  flame 
and  feel  myself  alive,  it  matters  little  whether  the 
light  emanates  from  myself  or  from  something 
else.  All  light  comes  from  the  divine  fire.  What 
is  the  aureole  of  the  human  head?  Glory  to  un- 
created genius !  The  glory  of  man  is  no  more  in 
himself  than  the  sun  is  in  the  water  which  reflects 
its  image." 

"  Perhaps,"  said  Francesco,  raising  to  heaven  his 
great  brown  eyes  wet  with  tears,  "perhaps  it  is 
foolishness  and  vanity  to  believe  one's  self  anything 
because,  possessing  the  power  to  approach  the  ideal 
in  thought,  he  apprehends  the  beautiful  a  little  better 
53 


THE  MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

than  other  men.  However,  in  what  should  a  man 
glory,  if  not  in  that  ? " 

"  Why  is  it  necessary  for  a  man  to  glory  in  any- 
thing ?  Provided  he  enjoys  himself,  is  he  not  happy 
enough?" 

"  Is  not  glory  the  most  sensible,  the  most  violent, 
the  most  intense  of  all  joys?"  said  Bozza,  in  an 
incisive  tone,  turning  his  eyes  toward  Venice. 

It  was  the  hour  when  the  Queen  of  the  Adriatic, 
like  a  beauty  bedecking  herself  with  diamonds  for  a 
ball,  began  to  light  her  lamps,  and  the  still  waters, 
accustomed  to  basking  in  her  splendor,  in  mute  ad- 
miration reflected  her  fiery  garlands. 

"You  distort  words,  friend  Bartolommeo,"  said 
the  young  Valerio,  giving  a  strong  pull  on  the  oar 
in  the  phosphorescent  water,  causing  a  pale  light  to 
play  about  the  black  sides  of  the  boat.  "  The  most 
intense  of  human  joys  is  love ;  the  most  sensible  is 
friendship;  the  most  violent  is  indeed  glory.  But 
when  you  say  violent,  you  say  keen,  terrible,  and 
dangerous." 

"  But  cannot  one  say  that  this  violent  joy  is  the 
most  elevated  of  all  ? "  replied  Francesco,  gently. 

"  I  could  not  think  so,"  answered  Valerio.  "  The 
sweetest,  noblest,  most  beneficent  thing  in  life  is 
love.  It  is  to  feel  and  conceive  the  beau  ideal. 
54 


THE  MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

Therefore  we  must  love  all  that  approaches  it, 
dream  of  it  without  ceasing,  seek  it  everywhere, 
and  grasp  it  as  we  find  it." 

"That  is  to  say,'*  returned  Francesco,  "to  hug 
vain  phantoms,  seize  dim  reflections,  make  -  solid 
flickering  shadows,  worship  the  spectre  of  one's 
own  fancies.    Is  that  to  enjoy  and  to  possess?" 

"Brother,  if  you  were  not  somewhat  ill,"  said 
Valerio,  "  you  would  not  talk  like  this.  The  man 
who  wishes  in  this  life  anything  better  than  this  life 
affords,  is  a  proud  man  who  blasphemes,  or  an 
ungrateful  man  who  suffers.  There  are  enough- 
elevated  pleasures  for  any  one  who  knows  how  to 
love.  Were  there  nothing  but  friendship  on  the 
earth,  man  would  have  no  right  to  complain.  If 
I  had  only  you  in  the  world,  I  should  still  bless 
Heaven.  I  have  never  imagined  anything  better, 
and  if  God  had  permitted  me  to  create  a  brother  I 
should  not  have  been  able  to  create  anything  so 
perfect  as  Francesco.  Go  to !  God  alone  is  a  great 
artist,  and  what  we  in  our  days  of  foolishness  ask 
of  Him  is  not  worth  what  He  in  his  immutable  wis- 
dom gives  us." 

"Ah!  my  dear  Valerio,"  said  Francesco,  folding 
his  brother  in  his  arms,  "you  are  right.  I  am 
proud  and  ungrateful.  You  are  worth  more  than 
55 


THE  MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

both  of  us,  and  you  are  indeed  a  living  proof  of 
what  you  say.  Yes,  indeed,  my  soul  is  sick.  Heal 
me  with  your  tenderness,  you  whose  soul  is  so 
healthy  and  so  strong.  Holy  Virgin,  pray  for  me ! 
for  I  have  been  very  guilty,  having  so  good  a 
brother,  in  allowing  myself  to  give  way  to  the  sin 
of  despondency." 

"Nevertheless,"  replied  Valerio,  smiling,  "the 
proverb  says,  'There  is  no  great  artist  without 
much  sadness.' " 

"And  without  a  little  hatred,"  added  Bozza,  with 
a  gloomy  air. 

"  Oh,  proverbs  are  always  half  a  lie,"  said  Valerio, 
"for  the  reason  that  all  proverbs,  having  their 
counterpart,  express  falsehood  and  truth  at  the  same 
time.  Francesco  is  a  great  artist,  and  I  would  pledge 
my  body  and  soul  that  he  never  knew  hatred." 

"Never  toward  others,"  said  Francesco;  "toward 
myself  very  often,  and  herein  lies  the  guilt  of  my 
pride.  I  always  want  to  be  better  and  more  skilful 
than  I  am.  I  would  like  to  be  loved  for  my  merit, 
not  on  account  of  my  suffering." 

"You  are  loved  for  both  one  and  the  other," 
replied  Valerio.  "  But  perhaps  all  men  are  not  fitted 
to  content  themselves  with  affection.  Perhaps  with- 
out the  need  of  being  admired  there  would  be  no 
S6 


THE  MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

great  artists,  no  masterpieces.  The  praise  of  the 
uneducated  is  a  commendation  one  does  not  care 
for,  but  we  find  it  indispensable.  This  need  is  so 
inexplicable  that  it  must  serve  some  purpose  in  the 
designs  of  God." 

"It  serves  to  make  us  suffer,  and  God  is  sov- 
ereignly unjust,"  said  Bozza,  lying  down  again  in  the 
bottom  of  the  boat  in  an  attitude  of  despair. 

"  Do  not  speak  so,"  said  Valerio.  "  See,  my  poor 
boy,  how  beautiful  the  sea  is  down  there,  below  the 
horizon !  Hear  how  that  passing  guitar  sighs  with 
sweet  harmonies !  Have  you  not  a  sweetheart; 
Bozza?    Are  we  not  your  friends?" 

"You  are  artists,"  answered  Bozza,  "and  I  am 
only  an  apprentice." 

"That  does  not  prevent  us  from  loving  you." 

"  It  should  not  prevent  you  from  loving  me ;  but 
it  prevents  me  from  loving  you  as  much  as  I  should 
if  I  were  your  equal." 

"Indeed!  in  that  case  I  should  not  love  the 
nobility,"  said  Valerio, "  for  I  am  an  artist  only  in 
name ;  I  am,  to  tell  the  truth,  only  an  artisan.  All 
those  whom  I  love  are  above  me,  beginning  with 
my  brother,  who  is  my  master.  My  father  was  a 
good  painter ;  Vicelli  and  Robusti  are  giants  before 
whom  I  am  nothing.  Nevertheless,  I  love  them,  and 
57 


THE  MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

I  never  dream  of  suffering  on  account  of  my  inferi- 
ority. Artists !  artists !  you  are  all  children  of  the 
same  mother.  She  calls  herself  Covetousness^  and 
you  are  all  indebted  to  her  more  or  less.  That  is 
what  consoles  me  for  being  a  simpleton." 

"Do  not  say  that,  Valerio,"  replied  his  elder 
brother.  "If  you  cared  to  take  the  pains,  you 
would  be  the  first  mosaic-worker  of  your  time. 
Your  name  would  efface  that  of  Rizzo,  and  mine 
would  come  only  after  yours." 

"  I  should  be  very  sorry  for  that.  By  Saint  Theo- 
dore !  May  you  be  always  the  first !  Holy  Idleness ! 
save  me  from  such  an  unfortunate  honor  1 " 

"Do  not  utter  such  blasphemy,  Valerio;  art  is 
above  all  affection." 

"Whoever  loves  art  loves  glory,"  added  Bozza, 
always  sad  and  doleful,  like  the  blast  of  a  big  brass 
trumpet  breaking  in  on  a  sweet  and  joyous  song. 
"  Whoever  loves  glory  is  willing  to  sacrifice  every- 
thing to  it." 

"Many  thanks,"  said  Valerio;  *'  as  for  me,  I  shall 
never  sacrifice  anything  to  it.  And  yet  I  love 
art,  you  know  it,  both  of  you,  although  they  accuse 
me  of  loving  only  wine  and  women ;  and  indeed  I 
must  love  it  well,  since  I  devote  half  a  life  to  it, 
which  I  feel  tempted  to  give  entirely  to  pleasure. 
58 


THE  MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

Never  am  I  so  happy  as  when  I  am  at  work.  When 
I  succeed,  I  feel  like  tossing  my  cap  away  up  above 
the  great  tower  of  St.  Mark's.  If  I  fail,  nothing 
disheartens  me,  and  the  kind  of  anger  I  experience 
against  myself  is  still  a  pleasure  such  as  one  reaHzes 
on  a  restive  horse,  a  swelling  sea,  or  in  stimulating 
wine.  But  the  approbation  of  others  does  not  incite 
me  any  more  than  does  a  tip  of  the  hat  from  my 
lords,  the  Bianchini.  When  Francesco,  my  other 
self,  says  to  me, '  That  is  well  done,'  I  am  satisfied. 
When  my  father,  looking  at  my  archangel,  smiled  in 
spite  of  himself  this  morning,  although  he  knit  his 
brows,  I  was  happy.  Supposing  the  Procurator- 
Cassiere  should  say  that  Dominique  the  Red  does 
better  than  I,  so  much  the  worse  for  the  Procurator- 
Cassiere ;  I  shall  not  cry.  Let  the  good  people  of 
Venice  find  that  I  have  not  enough  brick-dust  in  my 
flesh,  nor  enough  ochre  in  my  draperies,  Ewiva 
giumento  !  ^  If  you  were  not  so  foolish,  you  would 
not  make  me  laugh  so  much,  and  that  would  be  too 
bad,  for  I  laugh  with  all  my  heart." 

"  Happy, thrice  happy  carelessness !  '*  said  Francesco. 

Talking  thus  they  came  back  to  the  city.    When 

they  were  near  the  shore,  "Before  I  leave  you," 

said  Valerio,  "  we  must  come  to  an  understanding. 

1  Long  life  to  the  donkey  ! 

59 


THE  MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

Of  what  do  you  complain?  What  do  you  ask  of 
me  ?  That  I  give  up  pleasure  ?  You  might  as  well 
try  to  hinder  water  from  running  down  hill." 

"That  you  should  take  your  pleasures  less  pub- 
licly/' answered  Francesco, "  and  that  you  give  up, 
for  a  time  at  least,  your  studio  at  San  Filippo.  All 
that  might  be  wrongly  interpreted.  People  are 
wondering  already  how  the  great  number  of  ara- 
besques which  you  design,  and  the  lesser  occupa- 
tions to  which  you  lend  yourself,  can  be  reconciled 
with  what  you  do  at  the  basilica.  If  I  did  not  know 
your  untiring  activity,  I  should  not  understand  it 
myself;  and  if  with  my  own  eyes  I  did  not  see 
your  work  progress,  I  should  be  inclined  to  think 
that  two  or  three  hours'  sleep  after  nights  of  pleas- 
ure and  excitement  would  hardly  suffice  for  a  man 
devoted  all  day  to  hard  work.  Do  not  let  your 
numerous  acquaintances,  especially  these  talkative 
noblemen,  come  to  visit  you  so  continually  at  the 
basilica.  Such  an  honor  hurts  the  pride  of  the 
Bianchini.  They  say  that  these  young  people  make 
you  lose  your  time,  —  that  they  distract  you  from 
your  work  to  occupy  yourself  with  trifles.  For  in- 
stance, this  pleasure  society  which  you  have  started, 
and  which  has  caused  so  much  talk  among  all  the 
tradesmen  of  the  city." 

60 


THE  MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

*'  Alas !  "  cried  Valerio,  "  it  is  just  on  this  account 
that  I  am  in  such  haste  to  leave  you  this  evening. 
They  expect  me  to  regulate  the  costumes.  There  is 
no  such  thing  as  withdrawing,  and  you,  Francesco, 
are  pledged  to  take  part." 

**  I  am  pledged  to  it  provided  the  aflfair  does  not 
begin  until  after  St.  Mark's,  because  by  that  time  I 
hope  to  have  my  cupola  finished." 

"  I  said  so  both  on  your  account  and  mine ;  but 
you  can  readily  see  that  two  or  three  hundred  young 
men  eager  for  pleasure  will  not  easily  understand  the 
arguments  of  one  who,  unlike  them,  cares  solely  for  . 
work.  They  have  declared  that,  if  I  refuse  to  be 
with  them  immediately,  the  company  will  fall 
through,  —  that  nothing  is  possible  without  me. 
Therefore  they  have  already  reproached  me  se- 
verely, alleging  that  I  had  started  them,  that  the 
expenses  have  been  contracted,  the  refreshments 
ordered,  and  that  so  long  a  delay  would  give  a 
victory  to  the  other  companies.  In  short,  they 
have  done  so  much  that  I  stand  pledged,  both  for 
you  and  myself,  to  hoist  the  banner  of  the  Com- 
panions of  the  Lizard  in  fifteen  days.  We  will  open 
with  a  grand  game  of  rings  and  a  splendid  banquet, 
to  which  each  member  will  be  expected  to  bring  a 
young  and  beautiful  lady." 
6i 


THE  MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

"  Do  you  not  think  this  foolishness  will  put  back 
your  work?" 

"  Long  life  to  pleasure  1  but  I  defy  it  to  hinder  me 
from  working  when  the  hour  for  work  strikes. 
There  is  time  for  all,  brother.  So  I  can  count  on 
you?" 

"You  may  enter  my  name,  and  through  your 
hands  I  will  deposit  my  fee ;  but  I  shall  not  appear 
at  the  fSte.  I  do  not  wish  it  said  that  the  two 
Zuccati  were  off  duty  at  the  same  time.  It  must  be 
understood  that,  when  one  is  enjoying  himself,  the 
other  works  for  two." 

"  Dear  brother,"  cried  Valerio,  clasping  him  in  his 
arms, "  I  will  work  for  four  the  day  previous,  and 
you  will  be  at  the  fete.  Come,  it  will  be  a  splendid 
affair,  and  for  a  noble  purpose,  —  a  festival  thor- 
oughly democratic  and  thoroughly  fraternal.  It 
shall  not  be  said  that  noblemen  alone  have  the  right 
to  enjoy  themselves,  and  that  the  working  men  have 
religious  confraternities  only.  No,  no!  the  artist 
is  not  set  apart  to  do  penance  always !  The  rich 
fancy  that  we  are  made  to  expiate  their  sins.  Come, 
Bartolommeo,  you  will  be  there  also ;  I  am  going  to 
enter  your  name ;  it  will  put  you  to  a  little  expense. 
If  you  have  no  money,  I  have,  and  I  will  be  respon- 
sible for  everything.  Au  revoir,  dear  friends,  till 
62 


THE   MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

to-morrow.  Dearest  brother,  you  will  not  say 
that  I  have  not  listened  to  your  advice  with  the 
respect  due  to  an  elder  brother.  Come,  tell  me  that 
you  are  satisfied  with  me." 

So  saying,  Valerio  sprang  lightly  on  the  shore 
of  the  ducal  palace,  and  disappeared  under  the 
flitting  shadows  of  the  colonnade. 


63 


nPHAT  same  evening,  towards  midnight,  Bozza^ 
■■■  returning  from  the  house  of  his  sweetheart, 
more  sad  and  careworn  than  usual,  weary  of  love, 
weary  of  work,  and  weary  of  life,  was  walking  with 
great  strides  on  the  solitary  shore.  A  blustering 
wind  had  arisen,  the  waves  were  beating  against  the 
marble  quays,  and  mysterious  voices  seemed  to 
mutter  words  of  hatred  and  malediction  under  the 
black  arcades  of  the  old  palace. 

Suddenly  he  found  himself  face  to  face  with  a 
man  whose  heavy  and  echoing  tread  had  not  been 
able  to  rouse  him  from  his  reverie.  By  the  light 
of  a  lantern  fastened  to  a  floating  pier  Bozza  and 
the  other  nocturnal  promenader  met,  and,  stop- 
ping abruptly,  eyed  each  other  from  head  to  foot. 
Bartolommeo,  thinking  this  man  might  have  some 
evil  design,  placed  his  hand  upon  his  stiletto; 
but,  contrary  to  his  expectation,  Vincent  Bian- 
chini,  for  it  was  he,  touched  his  cap,  and  saluted 
him  courteously. 

64 


THE  MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

Vincent,  like  his  brother  Dominique,  was  a  coarse 
fellow  and  a  wicked  man.  Less  brutal  in  appear- 
ance, and  capable  in  spite  of  his  lack  of  education 
of  assuming  tolerably  good  manners,  exceedingly 
cunning,  skilled  in  lying,  the  result  of  his  struggles  to 
free  himself  from  the  damaging  accusations  brought 
against  him  by  the  Council  of  Ten,  he  was  certainly 
the  most  dangerous  of  the  three  Bianchini. 

"Messer  Bartolommeo,"  said  he,  ''I  have  just 
come  from  a  place  where  I  thought  I  should  see 
you,  and  where  I  am  very  glad  you  had  not,  like 
me,  the  curiosity  to  creep  in  on  the  sly." 

"  I  do  not  know  what  you  mean,  Messer  Vin- 
cenzo,"  replied  Bozza,  bowing  and  trying  to  pass 
him. 

Vincent  accommodated  his  step  to  that  of  Bozza, 
without  seeming  to  notice  his  desire  to  avoid  him.. 

"You  probably  know,"  said  he,  "that  the  prin- 
cipal members  of  the  new  company  have  just  held 
a  meeting  to  talk  over  the  statutes  and  the  rules 
for  admission. 

"  Possibly,"  said  Bozza.  "  It  matters  very  little  to 
me,  Messer  Bianchini.    I  am  not  a  man  of  pleasure." 

"  But  you  are  a  man  of  honor,  and  that  is  why  it 
gave  me  pleasure  not  to  see  you  among  the  auditors 
of  this  fine  assembly." 

65 


THE  MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

"What  do  you  mean?"  exclaimed  Bozza,  stop- 
ping short. 

"  I  mean  to  say,  my  dear  Bartolommeo,"  replied 
Vincent,  "that  if  you  had  been  there  things  would 
have  gone  very  differently,  and  perhaps  there  would 
have  been  a  little  noise.  Besides,  it  would  be  better 
for  everything  to  be  arranged,  for  an  affair  so  child- 
ish does  not  deserve — " 

"  Come,  speak  out,  Messer,  1  beg  you,"  said  Bozza, 
impatiently.  "  Has  anything  occurred  which  touches 
my  honor?" 

"  Oh,  no,  not  personally  perhaps,  but  along  with 
others  you  have  received  an  insult.  This  is  what 
happened.  You  know  that  the  new  company  is  to 
be  formed,  like  the  other  pleasure  societies,  of  mem- 
bers chosen  from  different  professions,  emulators 
of  each  other  in  riches  and  talent.  This  company 
had  agreed  to  receive  all  those  who  belonged  to 
the  corporation  of  glass-workers  who  were  rich 
enough  and  cared  enough  for  pleasure  to  wish  to  be 
admitted.  Architects,  glaziers,  metal-workers,  in 
fact,  all  the  avocations  which  are  represented  by  the 
work  in  the  basilica,  were  to  furnish  their  candi- 
dates. That  settled,  it  simply  remained  to  register 
the  names  of  these  candidates;  and  the  founders  of 
the  company,  having  at  their  head  Messer  Valerio 
66 


THE  MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

Zuccato,  your  master,  forthwith  met  for  this  pur- 
pose. But  would  you  believe  that  this  artist,  so 
noted  for  his  amiability  and  popularity,  would  have 
shown  himself  full  of  pride  and  contempt  in  regard 
to  the  greater  part  of  the  proposed  admissions? 
Yes,  indeed,  he  took  upon  himself  to  act  the  part  of 
a  gentleman,  of  a  Senator  in  fact.  He  declared  that 
whoever  was  not  a  master  in  some  profession  or 
other  was  not  fit  to  enjoy  himself  in  his  company. 
Many  opposed  him,  and  some  went  so  far  as  to  say 
that  certain  apprentices  were  more  economical  and 
more  talented  than  their  masters,  and  consequently 
had  more  money  and  more  influence.  This  is  what 
he  never  would  listen  to,  and  he  expressed  himself 
in  terms  so  haughty  and  severe  that  he  offended 
everybody.  At  this  moment  I  happened  to  be  near 
him  without  his  seeing  me,  and  some  one  said  to 
him,  '  If  you  push  the  matter  so  far,  will  you  not 
feel  sorry  for  Bozza,  that  honest  fellow  who  works 
so  well,  and  is  so  fond  of  you  and  your  brother?' 
Mf  my  apprentice  is  admitted  into  the  company,' 
said  Valerio, '  I  shall  withdraw.'  In  spite  of  that,  the 
opinion  of  the  majority  ruled,  and  members  will 
be  admitted,  provided  always  that  the  company 
judges  them  worthy  to  rank  next  to  the  mastership 
in  their  respective  vocations." 
67 


THE  MASTER   MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

Bozza  did  not  reply  to  this  speech ;  but  Vincent 
Bianchini,  who  observed  him  closely,  saw,  by  his 
nervous  step  and  a  jerking  movement  of  his  arms 
under  his  cloak,  that  he  was  very  much  annoyed. 

However,  Bartolommeo  controlled  himself,  for  he 
did  not  put  absolute  faith  in  the  words  of  Bianchini. 
The  latter,  seeing  that  he  must  not  allow  the  wound 
to  heal,  added  in  a  careless  tone, "  It  is  a  pity,  after 
all,  that  a  fellow  so  refined  and  so  amiable  should 
allow  himself  to  be  puffed  up  with  vanity.  Inter- 
course with  the  aristocracy  must  have  been  the 
cause  of  this  unfortunate  turn  of  affairs.  It  does 
an  artist  no  good  to  mingle  with  people  above 
his  class." 

"  There  is  no  class  above  the  artist,"  repHed  the 
young  apprentice,  angrily.  "  If  Valerio  thinks  more 
of  anything  else  than  of  his  art,  he  is  not  worthy  of 
the  title  he  bears." 

"  This  foolish  vanity,"  continued  Bianchini,  calmly, 
'*  is  a  family  failing.  Sebastian  Zuccato  despises  his 
children  because  he  is  a  painter  and  they  are  mosaic- 
workers.  Francesco,  his  oldest  son,  who  ranks 
among  the  first  in  his  art,  despises  his  brother 
because  he  seems  a  step  below  him,  and  he  in  turn 
despises  his  apprentice  —  " 

"  Do  not  say  he  despises  me,  Messer,"  said  Bozza 
68 


THE   MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

in  a  hollow  voice.  "  He  dares  not.  Do  not  say  that 
any  one  despises  me,  for,  by  the  blood  of  Christ !  I 
will  teach  you  the  contrary." 

"  If  you  are  despised  by  a  fool,"  answered  Bian- 
chini,  with  hypocritical  calmness,  "this  contempt 
will  turn  to  your  glory.  There  are  people  whose 
esteem  is  an  insult." 

"Such  is  not  the  case  between  Valerio  and  my- 
self," said  Bozza,  trying  to  control  the  passions 
which  were  rankling  in  his  heart. 

"  I  hope  not,"  replied  Vincent.  ''  Nevertheless,  I 
cannot  conceive  what  he  could  have  said  of  you  to 
the  person  who  pronounced  your  name,  for  he 
whispered  to  him,  and  I  knew  of  whom  he  was 
speaking  only  by  the  manner  in  which  he  drew  his 
cap  down  over  his  eyes,  and  pulled  his  coat  collar 
up  to  his  ears,  in  order  to  mimic  and  ridicule  you. 
At  the  same  time  he  frowned  and  imitated  your 
gesture,  causing  the  confidant  of  his  foolish  pleas- 
antry to  burst  out  laughing." 

"And  who  was  it  that  dared  to  laugh?"  cried 
Bozza,  drawing  his  cap  down  over  his  eyes,  in  spite 
of  himself,  clinching  his  fist  and  striking  his  breast, 
—  the  very  gesture  which,  according  to  Bianchini, 
Valerio  had  turned  into  ridicule. 

"Indeed,  I  cannot  tell  you,"  answered  Bianchini. 

69 


THE  MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

**  I  could  not  see  his  face,  because  as  usual  Valerio 
had  drawn  about  him  a  lot  of  listeners  who  were 
devouring  his  witticisms.  When  I  succeeded  in 
getting  through  the  crowd,  Valerio  had  changed 
his  interlocutor,  and  was  speaking  of  other  things ; 
but  they  were  laughing  still  in  the  place  he  had 
just  left. 

"  Very  well !  "  exclaimed  the  wretched  young 
man,  "  I  thank  you  for  telling  me  this :  perhaps  I 
shall  find  an  opportunity  to  reward  you  for  it." 

Saying  this,  Bozza  quickened  his  step,  and  Bian- 
chini  watched  him  for  some  time,  his  black  plume 
tossing  in  the  blustering  wind.  Then  he  lost  sight 
of  him,  and,  congratulating  himself  for  having 
pierced  the  shield  at  the  first  blow,  he  remained 
for  a  long  while  motionless  on  the  foamy  bank, 
absorbed  in  his  spiteful  thoughts  and  wicked 
designs. 


70 


VI. 


THE  sun  had  scarcely  begun  to  gild  the  tips  of 
the  white  cupolas  of  St.  Mark's,  and  the  gon- 
doliers of  the  Grand  Canal  still  lay  sleeping  on  the 
bank  at  the  foot  of  the  Leonine  Column,  when  the 
basihca  began  to  fill  with  workmen.  The  appren- 
tices, arriving  first,  erected  the  ladders,  assorted  the 
enamel,  and  ground  the  cement,  singing  all  the  while 
and  whistling  and  talking  in  a  loud  voice  in  spite  of 
the  distress  of  good  Father  Alberto,  who  tried  in 
vain  to  remind  these  young  scatterbrains  of  the 
solemnity  of  the  place  and  the  presence  of  the  Lord. 
If  the  exhortations  of  the  priest  mosaic-worker 
did  not  have  much  effect  under  the  majestic  cupola 
where  the  school  of  the  Zuccati  was  at  work,  he 
could  at  least  give  vent  to  his  zeal  and  ease  his  con- 
science by  long  and  severe  reprimands.  He  was 
never  interrupted  by  a  rude  word  nor  an  insulting 
laugh ;  for  if  these  pupils  had  their  master  Valerio's 
gayety,  ardor,  and  vivacity,  they  had  also  his  gentle- 
71 


THE  MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

ness,  his  goodness,  and  his  pious  respect  for  age  and 
virtue. 

But  things  went  very  differently  in  the  Chapel  of 
St.  Isidore,  where  the  Bianchini  family,  surrounded 
by  wild  and  undisciplined  apprentices,  could  not 
maintain  order  save  by  savage  yells  and  terrible 
threats.  When  a  lewd  song  reached  the  ears  of 
Alberto,  he  could  do  nothing  but  cross  himself,  and 
his  grief  found  expression  in  stifled  exclamations 
and  heavy  sighs ;  but  when,  above  all  the  coarse 
wrangling  and  brutal  invectives  which  this  set  of 
workmen  indulged  in,  the  terrible  voice  of  Domi- 
nique the  Red  came  thundering  under  the  echoing 
arches  of  the  basilica,  the  poor  priest  was  obliged 
to  stop  an  ear  with  one  hand,  and  with  the  other  to 
hold  on  to  one  of  the  rungs  of  his  ladder  to  prevent 
his  falling. 

During  these  days  the  master  mosaic-workers 
arrived  early,  and  set  to  work  almost  as  soon  as 
their  apprentices.  The  Feast  of  Saint  Mark  was 
drawing  near.  On  this  solemn  day  was  to  take 
place  the  dedication  of  the  basilica,  entirely  restored, 
and  decorated  with  new  paintings  by  the  greatest 
masters  of  the  age.  After  ten,  fifteen,  and  twenty 
years  of  assiduous  labor,  they  were  to  be  judged 
publicly,  regardless,  it  was  said,  of  the  patronage  of 


THE  MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

the  one  class  or  the  hatred  of  the  other.  It  was  to 
be  a  great  day  for  all  the  workmen,  from  the  first  of 
the  illustrious  painters  to  the  least  of  the  daubers, — 
from  the  architect  with  his  sublime  conceptions  to 
the  docile  workman  who  cut  the  stone  and  ;nixed 
the  mortar.  Rivalry,  jealousy,  buoyant  expectation 
or  sinister  fear, — all  the  good  and  bad  passions 
which  the  thirst  for  glory  and  the  greed  for  gain 
awaken  in  men,  whatever  their  position  in  art  or 
business,  were  aroused  unceasingly  under  these 
domes  resounding  with  a  thousand  noises.  Here 
was  heard  abusive  language,  there  the  joyous  song, 
and  further  on  the  jest ;  above,  the  hammer ;  below, 
the  trowel;  now  the  dull  and  continuous  thud  of 
the  tampon  on  the  mosaics,  and  anon  the  clear  and 
crystal-like  clicking  of  the  glass  ware  rolling  from 
the  baskets  on  to  the  pavement  in  waves  of  rubies 
and  emeralds ;  then  the  fearful  grating  of  the  scraper 
on  the  cornice,  and  finally  the  sharp  rasping  cry  of 
the  saw  in  the  marble,  to  say  nothing  of  the  low 
Masses  said  at  the  end  of  the  chapel  in  spite  of  the 
racket.  With  all  this  was  mingled  the  sound  of  the 
impassive  ticking  of  the  clock,  the  heavy  vibrations 
of  the  bells,  and  the  cries  of  a  thousand  domestic 
animals,  imitated  with  rare  perfection  by  the  little 
apprentices  in  order  to  make  Father  Alberto,  always 
73 


THE  MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

duped  by  this  trick,  turn  his  head  quickly  and  drop 
his  work,  which  he  never  resumed  until  he  had  made 
the  sign  of  the  cross  in  expiation  of  what  he  was 
pleased  to  call  his  giddiness. 

If  the  pupils  of  the  Zuccati  were  more  refined  and 
innocent  in  their  sport  than  those  of  the  Bianchini, 
they  were  not  much  less  noisy.  Francesco  rarely 
imposed  silence  upon  them.  Absorbed  in  his  work, 
the  patient  and  melancholy  artist  was  wholly  obliv- 
ious to  all  the  confusion  of  his  boisterous  studio ; 
moreover,  provided  the  work  suited  him,  he  did 
not  object  to  a  gayety  which  pleased  Valerio  and 
enhanced  his  zeal.  Valerio  was  really  the  idol  of  his 
apprentices.  If  he  spurred  them  on  without  relaxa- 
tion, and  often  enjoyed  a  good-natured  criticism  at 
their  expense,  at  heart  he  loved  them  as  his  children, 
and  charmed  away  their  fatigue  by  his  perpetual 
cheerfulness.  Every  day  he  had  new  and  extrava- 
gant stories  to  tell  them,  every  day  he  sang  a  song 
more  ridiculous  than  that  of  the  day  before.  If  he 
saw  a  foolish  fellow  make  a  blunder,  and  deny  it 
through  pride,  or  persist  in  it  through  ignorance,  he 
set  all  the  school  laughing  at  him,  and  daubed  his 
face  with  his  brush.  But  if  a  good  pupil  sincerely 
acknowledged  his  fault,  or  blushed  in  silence  at  an 
involuntary  mistake,  he  went  to  him,  took  his  fools, 
74 


THE  MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

and  in  a  few  minutes  repaired  the  error,  and  encour- 
aged him  either  by  gentle  words  or  by  saying 
nothing,  in  order  not  to  draw  upon  the  mortified 
apprentice  the  attention  of  his  comrades.  So  it  is 
true  to  say,  that,  if  Francesco  was  loved  and  respected, 
Valerio  was  adored  in  his  school,  and  his  pupils 
would  have  thrown  themselves  from  the  top  of  the 
grand  cupola  to  the  pavement  of  the  Place  St.  Mark 
to  please  him. 

Bartolommeo  Bozza  alone,  always  cold  and  reti- 
cent, took  no  part  in  this  merriment  and  enthusiasm. 
Francesco  was  much  impressed  with  his  work,  uni- 
formly correct  and  solid,  and  with  the  austerity  of 
his  manners.  His  sadness  seemed  to  him  to  call  for 
sympathy,  and  he  liked  to  say  that  this  dark  and 
mysterious  youth  would,  in  the  future,  become  a 
great  artist.  As  to  Valerio,  although  he  found  little 
pleasure  in  the  company  of  Bartolommeo,  he  was 
too  kind-hearted  not  to  credit  him  with  all  the  good 
qualities  he  had  himself. 

This  day,  Bozza,  who  was  usually  at  work  before 
the  other  apprentices,  did  not  appear  until  an  hour 
after  sunrise.  He  v/as  paler  and  more  dejected  than 
ever,  more  taciturn  and  sinister  than  they  had  yet 
seen  him.  He  had  not  had  a  moment's  rest.  He  had 
wandered  all  night,  like  an  unhappy  ghost,  through 
75 


THE  MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

the  dark,  angular  streets.  His  hair  fell  in  tangles  on 
his  hollow  cheeks,  his  beard  was  disordered  and 
bristling,  and  his  black  plume  had  been  broken  by 
the  gale.  He  took  his  apron  and  tools  in  silence, 
and  placed  himself  near  Valerio,  who  was  at  work 
on  his  garland  of  the  arch. 

Francesco  noticed  the  tardy  arrival  of  his  appren- 
tice; but  Bozza  was  always  so  prompt  that  the 
master  refrained  from  alluding  to  this  delinquency, 
the  first  of  which  he  had  been  guilty  during  the 
three  years  of  his  apprenticeship. 

Valerio,  always  outspoken,  and  actuated  by  a 
kindly  solicitude,  did  not  hesitate  to  question  him. 

"What  is  the  matter,  comrade?"  said  he,  gazing 
at  him  with  surprise  from  head  to  foot.  '*  You  look 
as  if  you  had  been  buried  overnight.  Let  me  touch 
your  hand  to  make  sure  that  you  are  not  your 
ghost." 

Bozza  pretended  not  to  hear  him,  and  did  not 
respond  to  the  oflfer  of  the  friendly  hand. 

"  You  have  been  playing,  eh,  Bartolommeo  ?  You 
lost  money  last  night?  Is  that  what  ails  you? 
Come,  do  not  take  the  game  to  heart.  If  it  is  a 
question  of  money,  don't  let  that  trouble  you.  You 
know  my  purse  is  yours." 

Bozza  was  silent. 

76 


THE  MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

"  Oh,  perhaps  it  is  not  that  ?  Your  sweetheart  has 
deceived  you,  maybe,  or  you  love  her  no  longer, 
which  is  worse.  Come,  make  a  lovely  Madonna 
to  look  like  her,  whose  gentle  eyes  will  be  forever 
fixed  on  yours.  Perhaps  you  have  an  enemy  ?-  Shall 
I  act  as  your  second  in  a  duel?    I  am  ready." 

'*  You  ask  a  good  many  questions,  Messer  Vale- 
rio,"  replied  Bozza  in  a  low  but  bitter  tone.  "  Has 
it  come  to  this,  that  for  being  an  hour  late  your 
associates  must  submit  to  such  catechising  and  give 
an  account  of  their  conduct  ?" 

"  Oh,  oh !  "  cried  Valerio,  amazed,  "  you  are  in  a 
very  bad  humor,  my  poor  friend.  It  is  to  be  hoped 
that  when  the  paroxysm  is  past  you  will  do  more 
justice  to  my  intentions." 

He  resumed  his  work,  whistling  the  while,  and 
Bozza  began  his  with  a  deliberation  and  an  affecta- 
tion of  indifference  and  awkwardness  which  Valerio 
did  not  wish  to  give  him  the  satisfaction  of  noticing. 

Nearly  two  hours  went  by,  and  Bozza,  seeing  he 
was  not  succeeding  in  irritating  Valerio,  changed 
his  method,  and  began  all  at  once  to  work  rapidly, 
paying  no  attention  to  the  materials  he  used,  and 
mixing  his  colors  in  the  oddest  and  most  incon- 
gruous manner. 

Valerio  looked  askance  at  him,  and  studied  him  for 
77 


THE  MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

some  minutes.  He  was  surprised  at  his  obstinacy, 
but  as  it  was  the  first  time  such  a  thing  had  hap- 
pened he  resisted  the  temptation  which  was  goading 
him  on  to  anger,  and  resolved  to  repair  the  work  of 
his  apprentice,  saying  to  himself ,"  After  all,  it  is  only 
a  day  lost  for  him  and  for  me." 

But  in  spite  of  this  generous  resolution,  and  in 
spite  of  his  determination  not  to  cast  his  eyes  on 
the  execrable  work  to  which  Bozza  was  savagely 
devoting  himself,  the  dry  harsh  sound  of  his  tampon 
had  something  feverish  and  irritating  in  it,  and  the 
young  master  felt  it  was  time  to  withdraw  if  he  did 
not  wish  to  show  his  temper.  He  was  at  ease  in  his 
conscience.  Bozza's  condition  seemed  to  him  a 
kind  of  distemper,  calling  more  for  pity  than  anger. 
Brave  as  a  lion,  but  like  the  lion  generous  and 
patient,  he  left  his  scaffolding,  donned  his  black  silk 
doublet,  and  went  to  breathe  the  air  for  a  moment 
in  the  court  of  the  basilica  adjoining  the  ducal 
palace,  one  of  the  most  beautiful  pieces  of  archi- 
tecture in  the  world. 

After  making  several  turns  under  the  galleries,  he 
thought  himself  calm  enough  to  go  back  to  the 
studio,  and  as  he  descended  the  Giant's  Staircase,  he 
found  himself  all  at  once  face  to  face  with  Bozza. 
The  same  kind  of  irritation  that  Valerio  had  felt 
78 


THE  MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

while  hiding  his  anger  had  rankled  in  Bartolommeo*s 
heart  while  he  was  trying  in  vain  to  enkindle  that 
of  his  rival.  After  Valerio  had  fled  from  his  mute 
torture,  his  own  had  become  so  exasperating  that 
he  could  no  longer  control  it.  Minutes  §eemed 
centuries  to  him,  and,  suddenly  carried  away  by  a 
feeling  of  irresistible  hatred,  he  hastily  followed  in 
Valerio's  footsteps,  and  joined  him  on  the  spot 
where,  nearly  two  hundred  years  before,  the  head 
of  Marino  Faliero  had  rolled  from  the  block,  AU 
Valerio's  anger  was  roused  again,  and  the  two  young 
artists,  immovable,  with  flashing  eyes^  remained  fojr 
several  moments  undecided,  each  waiting  impatiently 
for  the  provocation  of  his  adversary.  They  seemed 
like  two  fierce  dogs,  growling  inaudibly,  with  blood- 
shot eyes  and  bristling  backs,  ready  to  spring  upon 
each  other. 


79 


VII. 

DESPICABLE  as  were  the  artifices  of  Bianchini, 
the  spirit  of  observation  with  which  nature 
had  endowed  him,  and  the  perfect  knowledge  he  had 
of  the  weakness  and  follies  of  other  men,  served 
him  better  than  the  superiority  of  others  would 
have  done.  He  had  a  profound  and  inveterate  hatred 
of  the  human  race.  Denying  the  existence  of  con- 
science, he  detested  everything  resembling  it.  He 
did  not  shrink  from  any  means  of  corruption.  He 
never  took  into  account  the  possibility  of  good 
intentions.  His  dark  presentiments  were  almost 
always  verified.  But  it  is  true  to  say,  that,  as  the 
tempest  breaks  only  those  trees  whose  sap  has 
begun  to  dry  up  and  whose  trunks  have  lost  their 
elastic  vigor,  so  the  wicked  schemes  of  Bianchini 
triumphed  only  over  hearts  where  the  feeling  of  love, 
the  sap  of  life,  flowed  sparingly,  and  was  choked 
at  each  effort  by  the  violence  of  contrary  passions. 
An  instinctive  cowardice  prevented  him  from  attack- 
ing strong  and  generous  souls  directly.  He  knew 
80 


THE  MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

only  the  bad  side  of  life,  and  this  sinister  knowledge 
made  him  bold  in  the  practice  of  duplicity. 

If  he  had  dared  to  face  Bozza  with  such  a  palpable 
he,  it  was  because  he  foresaw  that  the  latter,  being  of 
a  distrustful  and  self-centred  nature,  would  nojt  seek 
the  elucidation  of  it.  Bozza,  without  exactly  liking 
deceit,  hated  frankness.  His  great  failing  was  an  ex- 
traordinary self-love,  always  being  wounded,  always 
suffering.  Bianchini  knew  also  that  the  whole  effort 
of  his  will  was  to  conceal  this  weakness,  —  that  the 
fear  of  betraying  it  by  his  words  made  him  silent, 
incapable  of  all  expansion,  an  enemy  to  all  explana^ 
tions  which  could  but  lay  bare  the  depths  of  his 
soul.  If  Bartolommeo  sometimes  half  revealed  him- 
self to  Francesco,  it  was  because,  seeing  the  melan- 
choly of  the  latter,  and  thinking  him  afflicted  with 
the  same  malady  as  himself,  he  feared  him  less  than 
others.  But  he  was  deceived.  Francesco's  malady, 
with  the  same  outward  symptoms,  was  of  a  totally 
different  nature  from  his  own.  His  opinion  of 
Valerio,  as  he  did  not  understand  him  at  all,  was 
that  he  was  a  man  made  up  of  contradictions.  He 
was  convinced  that  all  this  naive  nonchalance  was 
an  habitual  affectation,  in  order  to  win  friends  and 
adherents,  and  to  make  his  way  through  the  influ- 
ence of  those  in  power.  It  was  owing  to  this 
8i 


THE  MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

misconception    that    the   ruse   of    Bianchini    had 
succeeded. 

When  Bozza  came  into  the  presence  of  Valerio, 
although  he  was  not  at  all  cowardly,  his  courage 
forsook  him.  His  determination  to  reproach  him 
for  his  supposed  conduct  of  the  night  before  gave 
way  to  the  fear  of  showing  how  much  his  pride  had 
suffered  by  that  childish  provocation.  He  felt  that 
true  dignity  required  him  to  ignore  it,  or  to  pretend 
to  do  so,  and,  instantly  stifling  his  anger  in  the 
bottom  of  his  heart,  he  assumed  his  cold  and 
disdainful  air. 

Valerio,  surprised  at  the  sudden  change  in  his 
manner  and  expression,  broke  the  silence  first  by 
asking  him  what  he  had  to  say  to  him. 

"I  have  to  say  to  you,  Messer,"  replied  Bozza, 
"  that  you  must  look  for  another  apprentice.  I  am 
going  to  leave  your  school." 

"Because  — "  cried  Valerio  with  the  impatience 
of  a  frank  open  nature. 

"  Because  I  feel  obliged  to  leave  you,"  answered 
Bozza.    "Ask  me  no  more." 

"And  in  announcing  it  to  me  so  unexpectedly," 
said  Valerio,  "did  you  mean  to  wound  me?" 

"  Not  at  all,  Messer,"  replied  Bozza  in  a  chilHng 
tone. 

82 


THE  MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

"  In  that  case,"  said  Valerio,  making  a  great  effort 
to  control  his  temper,  "  you  owe  it  to  the  friendship 
which  I  have  always  shown  you  to  tell  me  the  cause 
of  your  leaving." 

"It  is  not  a  question  of  friendship,  Messer," 
replied  Bozza  with  a  bitter  smile.  "  That  is  a  word 
which  must  not  be  thrown  away,  and  a  feeling  which 
can  exist  but  slightly  between  you  and  me." 

"it  may  be  that  you  have  never  felt  it  for  any 
one,"  said  Valerio,  wounded,  "but  with  me  this 
feeling  was  sincere,  and  I  have  given  you  too  many 
proofs  of  it  for  it  to  be  becoming  in  you  to. 
deny  it." 

"You  have  indeed  given  me  proofs  of  it,"  said 
Bozza  ironically, "  which  it  will  be  difficult  for  me 
to  forget." 

Valerio,  astonished,  looked  at  him  fixedly.  He 
could  not  believe  in  so  much  bitterness;  the  lan- 
guage of  hatred  he  would  not  understand. 

"  Bartolommeo,"  said  he,  seizing  his  arm  and 
leading  him  under  the  galleries,  "you  have  some- 
thing on  your  mind.  I  must  have  offended  you 
involuntarily.  Whatever  it  may  be,  I  swear  upon  my 
honor  that  I  would  not  have  done  it  for  anything. 
That  I  may  convince  you,  tell  me  what  it  is." 

There  was  so  much  sincerity  in  the  young  mas- 

83 


THE  MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

ter's  voice  and  manner  that  Bozza  thought  Bianchini 
must  have  been  playing  upon  his  creduHty;  but  at 
the  same  time  he  felt  more  than  ever  the  desire  to 
conceal  his  inordinate  sensitiveness,  and  the  knowl- 
edge of  his  own  weakness  only  made  Valerio's 
generous  candor  the  more  humiliating  to  him.  His 
heart,  closed  to  affection,  did  not  feel  the  need  of 
responding  to  these  advances.  "  If  Bianchini  has 
lied,"  said  he  to  himself,  "  if  Valerio  does  not  despise 
me  this  time,  he  has  despised  me  every  day  of  his 
life,  and  he  despises  me  this  very  moment  by  offer- 
ing me  his  patronizing  friendship  and  the  forgive- 
ness of  a  fault.  Since  I  have  gone  so  far  as  to  say 
it,  I  shall  have  to  go  on."  Indeed,  for  a  long  time 
Bozza  had  been  uneasy  in  the  society  of  the  Zuccati, 
and  had  hoped  to  break  away  from  it. 

"You  have  never  offended  me,  Messer,"  he  an- 
swered coldly.  "  If  you  had  done  so,  I  should  not 
be  contented  with  leaving  you;  I  should  demand 
satisfaction." 

"  And  in  truth  I  am  ready  to  give  it  to  you  if  you 
persist  in  believing  it,"  replied  Valerio,  who  felt 
keenly  the  dissimulation  of  his  apprentice. 

"  That  is  not  the  question,  Messer ;  and  to  prove 
to  you  that,  if  I  do  not  seek  a  quarrel,  at  least  it  is 
not  through  fear  that  I  avoid  it,  I  am  going  to  teU 
84 


THE  MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

you  a  reason  for  leaving  you  which  may  displease 
you  a  httle." 

"Let  us  have  it,"  said  Valerio.  "We  should 
always  speak  the  truth." 

"  I  wish  to  tell  you,  master,"  said  Bozza,  speaking 
in  the  most  pedantic  and  wounding  tone  he  could 
assume,  "  that  this  is  a  question  of  art  and  nothing 
more.  Perhaps  this  may  make  you  smile,  —  you 
who  despise  art.  But  as  for  me,  who  prize  nothing 
else  in  the  world,  I  must  acknowledge  to  you  that  I 
am  a  man  ready  to  sacrifice  the  pleasantest  rela- 
tions in  life  in  order  to  make  progress  and  speedily 
become  a  master." 

"  I  do  not  blame  you  for  that,"  said  Valerio;  "  but 
in  what  way  is  your  progress  hindered  by  me? 
Have  I  neglected  to  teach  you?  And,  instead  of 
employing  you,  as  m.asters  are  in  the  habit  of  doing, 
in  the  mechanical  work  of  the  school,  have  I  not 
treated  you  like  an  artist  ?  Have  I  not  offered  you 
all  possible  opportunities  for  advancing,  confiding 
to  you  interesting,  difficult  work,  and  showing  you 
the  best  method,  as  heartily  as  if  you  had  been  my 
own  brother?" 

"  I  do  not  deny  your  kindness,"  said  Bozza;  "but 
at  the  risk  of  seeming  a  little  vain  I  must  confess, 
master,  that  this  method  which  seems  the  best  to 
85 


THE  MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

you  does  not  satisfy  me.  I  aspire  not  only  to  be 
first  in  my  art,  but  still  further  to  bring  that  art, 
incomplete  in  your  hands,  to  a  degree  of  perfection 
the  revelation  of  which  I  feel  within  me.  There- 
fore you  will  permit  me  to  free  myself  from  your 
method,  and  to  follow  my  own.  An  inner  voice 
compels  me.  It  seems  to  me  that  I  am  destined  for 
something  better  than  to  walk  in  the  footsteps  of 
others.  If  I  fail,  do  not  pity  me.  If  I  succeed,  count 
upon  me  in  my  turn  to  refuse  you  neither  my 
assistance  nor  my  advice." 

Valerio,  not  suspecting,  so  devoid  was  he  of 
vanity,  that  this  speech  was  invented  for  the  sole 
purpose  of  annoying  him  profoundly,  could  scarcely 
keep  from  laughing.  He  had  often  noticed  Bozza's 
extreme  self-love,  and  at  this  moment  it  seemed  to 
him  he  was  suffering  from  an  attack  of  mental 
aberration.  It  was  thus  that  he  accounted  for  the 
excited  state  in  which  he  had  seen  him  all  the 
morning,  and,  realizing  what  a  gloomy  and  misery- 
breeding  state  it  was,  he  had  the  kindness  not  to 
ridicule  him  too  openly. 

"If  that  is  the  case,  my  dear  Bartolommeo,"  said 

he  smiling, "  it  seems  to  me  that  by  remaining  with 

us  it  would  be  easier  for  you  to  give  us  this  advice 

and  for  us  to  receive  it.    As  you  have  never  been 

86 


THE  MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

opposed  in  your  work,  nothing  shall  prevent  you 
from  improving  and  innovating  as  you  choose.  If 
you  bring  our  art  to  a  greater  degree  of  perfection, 
I  can  promise  you  that,  far  from  hindering  it,  I  shall 
be  glad  to  profit  by  it  for  my  own  sake." 

Bozza  felt  that  Valerio,  in  spite  of  his  good  nature, 
was  making  fun  of  him  a  little.  In  despair  that  he 
had  in  vain  wished  to  be  wicked,  and  had  only  made 
himself  ridiculous,  he  could  no  longer  control  him- 
self, and  he  answered  him  several  times  in  a  tone  so 
bitter  that  Valerio  lost  all  patience,  and  at  last  said 
to  him ;  — 

"Really,  my  dear  friend,  if  the  extraordinary 
and  miserable  work  you  were  doing  just  now 
when  I  left  the  basilica  is  a  revelation  of  your 
genius,  I  should  much  prefer  that  art  should  retro- 
grade in  my  hands  than  make  such  progress  in 
yours." 

**  I  see,  Messer,"  replied  Bozza,  vexed  that  all  his 
little  intrigues  turned  against  himself,  "  you  are  not 
deceived  by  the  excuses  I  have  invented  since  morn- 
ing for  leaving  you.  I  wanted  to  displease  you,  so 
that  you  might  turn  me  away,  thereby  saving  you 
the  mortification  of  being  left  in  the  lurch.  I  am 
sorry  you  did  not  understand  my  disinterested- 
ness in  this  matter,  and  have  obliged  me  to  tell 
87 


THE   MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

you  that  I  shall  not  remain  an  hour  longer  in 
your  school." 

"And  the  cause  of  your  going  must  remain  a 
secret.?"  said  Valerio. 

"No  one  has  the  right  to  ask  me,"  answered 
Bozza. 

"  I  could  oblige  you  to  fulfil  your  engagement," 
replied  Valerio,  "  for  I  have  your  written  contract  to 
work  under  my  direction  until  next  St.  Mark's;  but 
I  do  not  wish  to  be  served  by  constraint.  You  are 
free." 

"I  am  ready  to  indemnify  you  to  any  amount 
you  may  exact,  Messer,"  replied  Bozza,  '*  for  I  fear 
nothing  so  much  as  to  remain  your  debtor." 

"  You  will  have  to  be  resigned  to  that,  however," 
said  Valerio,  saluting  him,  "  for  I  am  determined  to 
accept  nothing  from  you." 

So  they  parted,  the  master  and  the  apprentice. 
Valerio  watched  him  going,  and  walked  nervously 
under  the  arcades.  Then,  suddenly  overcome  with 
sadness  at  the  sight  of  so  much  ingratitude  and 
obduracy,  he  returned  to  his  work,  his  face  bathed 
in  tears. 

Bozza,  on  the  contrary,  went  to  seek  his  sweet- 
heart, and  treated  her  better  than  usual  that  day. 
He  was  light-hearted,  almost  gay.     He  felt  his  soul 


THE  MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

relieved  of  a  heavy  load;  it  was  the  weight  of 
gratitude,  a  feeling  insupportable  to  the  proud.  He 
imagined  he  had  just  triumphed  over  all  his  past, 
and  was  entermg  with  full  sails  into  the  glorious 
independence  of  the  future. 


89 


VIII. 

BOZZA  was  not  an  artist  without  merit.  Not 
only  was  he  very  superior  to  the  Bianchini, 
who  were  merely  diligent  and  painstaking  workmen, 
but  he  had  received  from  the  Zuccati  advanced  ideas 
in  designing  and  coloring.  His  drawing  was  elegant 
and  correct,  his  tone  was  not  lacking  in  truth,  and 
in  rendering  the  brilliancy  and  richness  of  material 
he  surpassed  perhaps  even  Valerio  himself.  But  if 
by  dint  of  study  and  perseverance  he  had  succeeded 
in  producing  mechanical  effects,  he  was  far  from 
having  drawn  down  from  Heaven  that  sacred  fire 
which  gives  life  to  the  productions  of  art,  and  which 
constitutes  the  superiority  of  genius  over  talent. 
Bozza  was  too  intelligent  and  too  much  in  earnest 
in  his  search  after  the  secret  of  this  superiority  in 
others  not  to  understand  what  he  lacked  himself, 
and  to  seek  diligently  to  acquire  it.  But  in  vain  did 
he  try  to  give  to  his  characters  the  pathetic  grace 
and  lofty  enthusiasm  which  distinguished  those  of 
90 


THE  MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

the  Zuccati.  He  succeeded  in  painting  the  physical 
emotion  only.  In  the  scene  from  the  Apocalypse, 
the  faces  of  the  demons  and  the  damned  were  ^/ery 
well  handled.  But  although  he  excelled  in  this,  he 
did  not  know  how  to  give  to  these  impersonations 
of  hatred  and  misery  the  intellectual  sentiment 
which  ought  to  characterize  religious  pictures.  The 
wicked  did  not  seem  to  be  tormented  by  the  flames 
which  consumed  them.  No  feeling  of  shame  or 
despair  was  portrayed  in  their  features  contracted 
by  the  heat.  The  rebel  angels  retained  nothing  of 
their  celestial  origin.  Their  regret  at  the  loss  of 
their  primitive  greatness  was  stifled  under  a  frightful 
expression  of  irony,  and  in  gazing  at  these  immov- 
able features,  these  wild  grimaces,  these  tortures 
which  recalled  the  Inquisition  rather  than  the  judg- 
ments of  God,  one  was  more  startled  than  pained, 
more  disgusted  than  awed. 

In  spite  of  these  faults,  perceptible  only  to  supe- 
rior natures,  Bozza's  work  possessed  excellent  quali- 
ties, and  the  Zuccati  well  understood  his  power 
when  they  intrusted  it  to  him ;  but  when  he  essayed 
more  lofty  subjects,  he  completely  failed.  His 
majestic  movements  were  rigid,  his  inspired  faces 
were  grimacing.  In  vain  his  angels  spread  their 
strong  and  luminous  wing ;  their  feet  seemed  ever- 
91 


THE  MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

lastingly  embedded  in  the  cement,  and  their  eyes  had 
no  other  light  than  that  of  enamel  or  marble. 

The  disconcerted  artists  no  longer  recognized 
their  own  thoughts  in  the  execution  of  their  designs, 
however  faithful  in  technique  they  might  be;  and 
the  Zuccati  were  obliged  to  retouch  with  great  care 
all  which  in  their  faces  indicated  feeling  and  the  por- 
trayal of  moral  life.  From  the  time  that  the  scene 
from  the  Apocalypse  had  been  completed,  Bozza  had 
been  employed  on  the  grand  festoon  of  the  arch ; 
and;  as  he  had  deemed  it  unworthy  of  his  genius  to 
be  assigned  the  task  of  making  a  servile  copy  of 
ornamentation,  he  experienced  interiorly  all  the  tor- 
tures of  wounded  pride.  It  was  nevertheless  with 
extreme  gentleness  and  delicacy  that  the  Zuccati  had 
made  him  feel  the  need  of  leaving  sacred  subjects 
to  more  able  hands,  and  of  finishing  the  details  of 
the  arch  while  waiting  until  subjects  suited  to  his 
peculiar  talent  should  be  consigned  to  their  school. 

Bozza  made  no  account  of  the  special  lessons  in 
designing  and  painting  which  the  Zuccati  gave  him 
in  their  leisure  hours.  To  him  nothing  was  of  so 
much  importance  as  his  own  future  glory,  and  in 
his  heart  he  reproached  Valerio  for  his  love  of  pleas- 
ure, which  prevented  him  from  devoting  all  his 
spare  moments  to  him,  and  he  reproached  Francesco 
92 


THE  MASTER  MOSAIC -WORKERS. 

for  a  too  close  application  to  his  own  work,  which 
sometimes  obliged  him  either  to  shorten  these  lessons 
or  to  put  them  off  until  the  following  day.  He  flat- 
tered himself  that  these  masters  feared  he  would 
surpass  them,  and  that  they  purposely  deprived  him 
of  the  means  of  advancing  himself,  in  order  that 
they  might  profit  the  longer  by  his  work.  So  in  his 
secret  soul  he  abandoned  himself  to  all  the  agony  of 
jealousy  and  resentment. 

At  other  times  —  and  these  moments  were  still 
more  trying  —  he  was  forced  to  open  his  eyes  and 
admit  that,  in  spite  of  the  excellent  lessons  and  dis- 
interested advice  they  had  given  him,  he  had  not 
progressed  as  he  should  have  done.  He  felt  all  the 
defects  of  his  work  keenly,  and  asked  himself  in 
dismay  if,  beyond  a  certain  degree  of  talent,  he  was 
always  to  find  himself  baffled.  He  realized  what  he 
lacked,  but  could  not  attain  it.  His  hand  seemed 
to  translate  into  commonplace  words  the  poetic 
inspirations  of  his  brain,  and  he  half  believed  the 
infernal  powers  had  some  jealous  designs  on  his 
destiny. 

Valerio  often  said  to  him,  "  Bartolommeo,  the 
greatest  obstacle  to  the  development  of  your  facul- 
ties is  the  intense  anxiety  that  preys  upon  your 
mind.     Nothing  beautiful  or  grand  can  blossom 
93 


THE  MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

except  under  the  fructifying  breath  of  a  warm  heart 
and  a  free  spirit.  It  requires  all  the  health  of  body 
and  soul  to  produce  sound  work ;  that  which  comes 
from  a  sick  brain  has  not  the  conditions  of  life.  If, 
instead  of  shedding  the  choking  tears  of  weariness 
and  discouragement,  you  would  really  cry  with  ten- 
derness and  sympathy  on  the  bosom  of  a  friend, — if, 
in  fine,  in  those  hours  when  you  are  so  overcome 
with  fatigue  that  you  can  neither  hold  your  tools 
nor  discern  colors,  sooner  than  weary  your  sight  or 
allow  your  will  to  become  paralyzed,  you  would  seek 
in  the  diversions  of  your  age,  in  the  innocent  sports 
of  youth,  a  means  of  restoring  the  strength  of  the 
artist,  giving  it  for  a  time  a  different  treatment,  —  I 
think  you  would  be  surprised  on  resuming  your 
work  to  feel  your  heart  beat  vigorously,  and  your 
whole  being  transported  with  an  unknown  joy  and 
an  invincible  hope.  But  you  seem  in  a  manner 
determined  to  be  always  sad,  and  ready  to  sink  at 
any  moment  under  the  burden  of  life.  How  can 
you  give  to  your  work  that  life  that  is  not  in  your- 
self ?  If  you  continue  in  this  way,  all  the  resources 
of  your  genius  will  be  exhausted  before  you  can 
make  them  serve  you.  By  dint  of  looking  at  the 
end,  and  of  exaggerating  the  price  of  victory,  you 
are  hindered  from  experiencing  the  sweet  emotion 
94 


THE  MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

and  pure  delight  of  the  work  itself.  Art,  out  of 
revenge  for  not  being*  loved  for  herself  alone,  reveals 
herself  only  at  a  distance  to  your  blurred  and 
deceived  vision;  and  if  by  resorting  to  unusual 
methods  you  happen  to  succeed  in  winning  the  vain 
applause  of  the  crowd,  you  will  not  feel  within  you 
the  noble  satisfaction  of  the  conscientious  artist 
who  can  smile  at  the  ignorance  of  crude  judges,  and 
console  himself  for  his  poverty  by  shutting  himself 
up  in  a  cot  or  a  cave  with  his  Muse,  enjoying  in  her 
embrace  an  ecstasy  unknown  to  the  vulgar." 

The  unfortunate  artist  fully  understood  the  truth 
of  these  words,  but,  instead  of  believing  that  Valerio 
addressed  them  to  him  in  the  simplicity  of  his  soul, 
and  with  the  sincere  desire  of  placing  him  on  the 
right  track,  he  accused  him  of  harboring  a  feeling 
of  malicious  pleasure  and  cruel  contempt  at  sight  of 
his  misery.  Discouraged  and  disheartened,  he  would 
then  exclaim :  "  Yes,  that  is  too  true,  Valerio.  I  am 
lost.  I  am  consumed  like  a  torch  blown  by  the 
wind,  without  having  thrown  my  light  or  filled  my 
lamp.  You  know  it,  you  have  put  your  finger  on 
the  wound.  You  know  the  secret  of  your  power 
and  of  my  weakness.  Triumph  then,  humiliate  me, 
contemn  my  dreams,  blast  my  hopes,  laugh  at  my 
aspirations.  You  have  known  how  to  use  your 
95 


THE  MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

strength;  you  have  controlled  the  race-horse;  you 
have  tamed  him.  As  for  myself,  I  spur  him  inces- 
santly, and,  being  carried  away  by  him,  I  go  to 
pieces  against  the  first  obstacle." 

It  was  in  vain  that  the  two  Zuccati  sought  to 
pacify  him  and  restore  his  hope.  He  repulsed  their 
kindly  interest,  and,  hurt  by  their  compassion,  he 
tried  to  hide  his  discomfort  afar  from  all  eyes  and 
all  consolation. 

Seeing  that  tYieir  affectionate  advice  only  served 
to  aggravate  the  misery  of  this  tortured  soul,  the 
two  young  masters  at  last  ceased  speaking  with  him 
about  himself;  and  Bozza  concluded  thereby  that 
they  no  longer  loved  him,  and  were  afraid  that 
perhaps  he  might  profit  too  much  by  their  advice. 
The  unfortunate  necessity  of  abandoning  a  noble 
and  interesting  work  in  order  to  finish  some  care- 
fully selected  ornamentation  in  a  given  time  had 
ended  by  embittering  him.  He  had  then  resolved 
to  leave  them  as  soon  as  his  engagement  should 
expire,  for  he  had  no  hope  that  they  would  propose 
him  for  the  mastership,  as  they  had  the  right  to  do, 
according  to  the  terms  of  their  agreement  with  the 
Procurators.  This  right  extended  to  only  one 
pupil  a  year,  and  Ceccato  and  Marini,  his  young 
associates,  seemed  to  him  to  be  more  in  favor  with 

96 


THE  MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

the  Zuccati  than  himself.  He  had  an  idea  of  going 
to  Ferrara  or  to  Bologna  to  engage  himself  as  a 
master,  and  form  a  school ;  for  if  he  was  one  of 
the  last  in  Venice,  he  might  hope  to  be  one  of  the 
first  in  a  city  less  wealthy  and  less  renowned.  His 
quarrel  with  Valerio  had,  in  his  eyes,  the  double 
advantage  of  rendering  him  free  and  of  giving  him 
an  occasion  for  revenge. 

The  work  was  not  finished,  the  feast  of  Saint 
Mark  was  drawing  near,  the  moments  were  counted. 
In  the  two  schools  zeal  was  redoubled  in  order  that 
they  should  not  fall  behind  with  their  engagements. 
The  absence  or  departure  of  one  apprentice  at  this 
time  would  be  a  real  loss,  and  would  seriously  com- 
promise the  success  of  the  extraordinary  efforts 
which  were  being  made  up  to  this  day,  in  order  not 
to  be  outdone  by  the  rival  school. 


97 


IX. 

THE  Bianchini  were  not  slow  to  notice  the  ab- 
sence of  Bozza  or  the  sadness  of  Valerio. 
Vincent,  with  a  brutal  smile,  related  his  artifice  of 
the  evening  before  to  his  two  brothers,  and  all  three 
of  them,  encouraged  by  this  first  success,  resolved 
to  do  everything  in  their  power  to  injure  the  work 
in  the  grand  cupola  and  to  ruin  the  Zuccati.  After 
consulting  together  at  the  tavern,  Vincent  put  him- 
self on  Bozza' s  track,  and  discovered  him  early  in 
the  evening  in  the  great  orchard  which  extends 
along  the  border  of  the  lagunes  in  the  neighborhood 
of  Santa  Chiara.  Bozza  crept  slowly  along  close  to 
a  stretch  of  greensward  dotted  with  beautiful  trees, 
whose  branches  leaned  affectionately  above  the 
placid  waters.  A  profound  silence  reigned  over 
this  rural  city,  and  the  last  rays  of  the  setting  sun 
tinted  faintly  in  the  distance  the  rustic  clock  of  the 
Isle  of  Certosa.  On  this  side  Venice  presents  an 
appearance  as  naive  and  pastoral  as  on  other 
sides  coquettish,  proud,  or  terrible.    Here  one  isees 


THE   MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

only  boats  landing  laden  with  fruit  or  vegetables; 
here  one  hears  only  the  sound  of  the  rake  on  the 
walk,  or  the  hum  of  the  spinning-wheels  of  the 
women  seated  m  the  midst  of  their  children  on 
the  doorsteps  of  their  fruit-houses.  Here  the  con- 
vent clocks  strike  the  hours  in  a  tone  clear  and 
tender,  and  nothing  interrupts  the  long  melancholy 
vibration.  It  was  here  that  in  former  days  the 
author  of  "  Childe  Harold"  often  came  to  learn  the 
meaning  of  certain  mysteries  of  nature:  grace, 
sweetness,  charm,  repose,  strange  words  which 
nature,  either  powerless  or  pitiless  in  his  regard, 
translated  for  him  by  languor,  sadness,  weariness, 
despair.  Bozza,  insensible  to  the  soothing  influence 
of  such  a  charming  evening,  was  absorbed  in  watch- 
ing the  rapid  flight  and  bloody  contests  of  the  great 
sea  birds,  which  at  this  hour  quarrel  over  their 
last  prey,  or  hurry  to  reach  their  hidden  retreats. 
This  wrestling  and  commotion  was  the  only  thing 
with  which  he  was  in  sympathy.  Everywhere  the 
vanquished  seemed  to  him  the  personification  of 
his  rivals ;  and  when  the  conqueror  flung  upon  the 
air  his  cry  of  rage  and  triumph,  Bozza  imagined 
himself  mounting  on  huge  wings  to  the  goal  of  his 
insatiable  desires. 
Bianchini  approached  him  with  affected  frankness, 
99 


THE  MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

and,  after  having  told  him  that  he  had  noticed  for 
some  time  past  the  Zuccati's  evil  dealings  with  him, 
he  begged  him  to  tell  him,  under  the  seal  of  secrecy, 
if  he  had  really  decided  to  leave  their  school. 

"There  is  no  secret  about  it,"  answered  Bar- 
tolommeo,  "  for  it  is  not  only  a  thing  decided  upon, 
but  a  thing  done." 

Bianchini  expressed  his  pleasure  with  reserve,  and 
assured  Bozza  that  he  might  have  stayed  for  ten 
years  with  the  Zuccati  without  making  any  progress 
toward  the  mastership,  and  cited  for  example  Marini, 
who  was  a  talented  fellow,  and  who  had  been  with 
them  for  six  years  with  no  other  recompense  than  a 
modest  salary  and  the  title  of  companion.  "  Marini 
flatters  himself,"  he  added,  "that  he  will  be  made  a 
master  on  St.  Mark's  Day,  according  to  the  promise 
of  Messer  Francesco  Zuccati,  but  —  " 

"He  promised  it  to  him?  Positively?"  said 
Bozza,  his  eyes  flashing. 

"  In  my  presence,"  answered  Vincent.  "  Perhaps 
he  made  the  same  promise  to  you.  Oh,  there  is  no 
counting  on  the  promises  of  the  Zuccati.  They 
treat  their  apprentices  as  they  treat  the  Procurators, 
—  more  talk  than  work.  They  have  fine  words  by 
which  they  explain  to  their  dupes  that  art  requires 
a  long  novitiate,  and  that  an  artist  would  die  in  his 

100 


THE  MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

prime  if  he  gave  himself  too  soon  to  the  caprices 
of  his  imagination ;  and  that  the  greatest  talents  had 
failed  because  too  quickly  freed  from  the  servile 
study  of  the  model,  etc.  What  don't  they  say? 
They  learned  by  heart  in  their  father's  studio,  when 
their  father  had  a  studio,  five  or  six  high-sounding 
words  which  they  heard  said  to  Titian  or  Giorgione, 
and  now  they  consider  themselves  masters  in  paint- 
ing, and  talk  like  lords.  Truly,  it  is  so  ridiculous 
that  I  do  not  understand  why  that  great  devil  of 
yours  in  the  Apocalypse — that  piece  of  work  so 
perfect,  so  fantastically  rendered,  so  horned  and 
so  good-natured  that  I  can  never  look  at  it  without 
laughing  —  does  not  detach  itself  from  the  wall,  and 
with  his  lion's  tail  come  and  box  their  ears  when 
they  say  things  so  foolish  and  so  out  of  place 
coming  from  them." 

Although  Bozza  was  hurt  by  this  coarse  praise 
given  to  his  most  important  effort,  to  a  figure 
which  he  had  intended  to  render  terrible,  not  gro- 
tesque, he  felt  a  secret  pleasure  in  hearing  the  Zuccati 
denounced  and  laughed  at. 

When  Bianchini  thought  he  had  gained  Bozza' s  con- 
fidence by  salving  his  wound,  he  offered  to  take  him 
into  his  school,  and  went  so  far  as  to  promise  him 
a  much  larger  salary  than  that  he  received  from  the 

lOI 


THE  MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

Zuccati;  but  he  was  surprised  at  getting  only  a 
refusal  for  his  answer,  and  at  not  seeing  the  slightest 
satisfaction  flit  over  Bozza's  face.  He  thought  that 
the  young  man  would  let  himself  be  bought  over 
for  the  sake  of  greater  pecuniary  advantages.  The 
Bianchini  could  not  see  in  the  life  of  an  artist  any 
other  end,  any  other  hope,  any  other  glory,  than 
money. 

After  having  tried  in  vain  to  tempt  him  with 
offers  still  more  brilliant,  Vincent  gave  up  the  idea 
of  entering  into  business  relations  with  him,  and, 
assuming  the  complacent  air  of  a  man  wholly  dis- 
interested, he  sought  by  flattering  him  and  convers- 
ing with  him  to  find  out  the  reasons  for  his  refusal 
and  the  secret  desires  of  his  ambition.  This  was 
not  difficult.  Bozza,  this  man  so  defiant  and  so 
reserved  that  the  most  sincere  friendship  could  not 
draw  from  him  an  acknowledgment  of  his  weak- 
ness, yielded  like  a  child  to  the  seductions  of  the 
grossest  flattery.  Praise  was  like  fresh  air  to  his 
lungs,  without  which  he  would  suffer  and  die. 
When  Bianchini  saw  that  his  whole  ambition  was  to 
become  a  master,  and  to  have  the  glories  of  the 
profession  in  its  authority,  its  independence,  its 
title,  regardless  of  acquiring  no  profit  for  his  pains 
and  of  suffering  all  privations  for  a  long  time  to 


THE  MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

come,  he  felt  a  profound  contempt  for  this  ambi- 
tion, less  vile  than  his  own,  and  would  have  laughed 
at  him  openly  if  he  had  not  thought  he  could  yet 
use  him  to  the  detriment  of  the  Zuccati. 

"Ah,  my  young  master,"  said  he,  "you. would 
command,  and  not  serve !  It  would  be  very  easy,  I 
know,  for  a  man  so  talented  as  yourself.  Very  well ! 
Long  life  to  you !  You  must  be  a  master,  but  not 
in  a  miserable  little  provincial  town,  where  you 
might  toil  for  twenty  years  without  being  noticed. 
You  must  become  a  master  here  in  Venice,  on  Saint 
Mark's  Day,  cutting  out  and  filling  the  place  of  the 
Zuccati." 

"That  is  easier  said  than  done,"  replied  Bozza. 
"The  Zuccati  are  all-powerful." 

"Perhaps  not  so  much  as  you  think,"  replied 
Bianchini.  "  Will  you  pledge  me  your  word  to  trust 
in  me  and  help  me  in  all  my  plans  ?  I  will  pledge 
you  mine  that  in  six  months  the  Zuccati  will  be 
driven  from  Venice,  and  that  we  two,  you  and  I,  will 
be  sole  masters  in  the  basilica." 

Vincent  spoke  with  so  much  assurance,  and  he 
was  known  as  a  man  so  persevering,  so  capable,  and 
so  fortunate  in  all  his  undertakings,  —  he  had  escaped 
so  many  dangers  and  repaired  so  many  disasters 
where  anybody  else  would  have  failed, — that  Bozza 
103 


THE  MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

was  moved,  felt  a  thrill  of  pleasure  coursing  through 
his  veins,  and  the  perspiration  stood  in  beads  upon 
his  forehead,  as  if  the  sun  from  out  the  sea  into 
which  it  had  just  sunken  were  shedding  upon  him 
its  very  hottest  rays. 

Bianchini,  seeing  him  duped,  took  his  arm  and 
drew  him  along  with  him. 

"  Come,"  said  he,  "  I  want  to  make  you  see  with 
your  own  eyes  a  sure  way  of  getting  rid  of  our 
enemies;  but  first  you  must  take  an  oath  that  you 
will  not  be  influenced  by  any  feeling  of  foolish  sen- 
sitiveness, and  will  do  nothing  to  check  my  plans. 
Your  testimony  is  absolutely  necessary  to  me.  Are 
you  sure  that  you  will  not  shrink  from  any  of  the 
consequences  of  the  truth,  however  hard  they  may 
bear  upon  your  old  masters  ?" 

"  And  where  will  these  consequences  end  ? "  asked 
Bozza  in  surprise. 

"With  life  only,"  answered  Bianchini.  "They 
will  lead  to  exile,  dishonor,  and  want." 

"  I  will  not  lend  myself  to  that,"  said  Bozza,  dryly, 
movmg  away  from  his  tempter.  "  The  Zuccati  are 
honest  men,  after  all,  and  I  cannot  carry  spite  so  far 
as  to  hate  them.  Let  me  alone,  Messer  Vincent,  you 
are  a  wicked  man." 

"It  seems  so  to  you,"  replied  Vincent,  wholly 
104 


THE  MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

unmoved  by  an  appellation  for  which  he  had  long 
since  ceased  to  blush.  "That  scares  you  because 
you  believe  in  the  honor  of  the  Zuccati  brothers. 
It  is  very  nice  and  very  naive  on  your  part.  But  if 
one  could  make  you  see — I  say,  with  your  own  eyes 
— that  they  are  men  of  bad  faith,  who  deceive  the 
Republic,  and  defraud  its  treasuries  by  stealing  their 
salary  and  adulterating  their  work, — if  I  could  make 
you  see  it,  what  would  you  say  ?  And  if,  having 
made  you  see  it,  I  should  summon  you  at  the  time 
and  place  to  bear  witness  to  the  truth,  would  you 
doit.>" 

"  If  I  should  see  it  with  my  own  eyes,  I  should 
say  that  the  Zuccati  are  the  greatest  hypocrites  and 
the  most  outrageous  liars  I  have  ever  met ;  and  if,  in 
that  case,  I  should  be  summoned  to  bear  witness,  I 
should  do  it,  because  they  would  then  have  treated 
me  shamefully,  and  I  have  too  much  hatred  for  men 
who  have  the  right  to  lord  it  over  others  not  to 
abhor  those  who  arrogate  to  themselves  this  right 
at  the  price  of  falsehood.  They  robbers  and 
villains !  I  do  not  believe  it ;  but  I  would  like  to, 
if  only  for  the  pleasure  of  telling  them  to  their  face, 
*  No,  you  have  no  right  to  despise  me.'  " 

"  Follow  me,"  said  Bianchini  with  a  hideous  smile; 
"  night  is  upon  us,  and  moreover  we  can  enter  the 
105 


THE  MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

basilica  at  any  time  without  exciting  suspicion. 
Come,  and  if  you  are  not  chicken-hearted,  before 
six  months  you  will  make  a  great  yellow  devil  on 
the  highest  scaffolding  in  the  basilica  which  will 
laugh  louder  than  all  the  others,  and  which  will  be 
worth  to  you  a  hundred  golden  ducats." 

Thus  speaking,  he  glided  away  among  the  sweet- 
scented  trees;  and  Bozza,  treading  with  an  uneasy 
step  on  the  border  of  thyme  and  fennel,  followed 
him  tremblingly,  like  one  on  the  verge  of  commit- 
ting a  crime. 


io6 


X. 

THE  following  day,  Bozza  was  to  be  seen  in  the 
school  of  the  Bianchini,  working  zealously  in 
the  chapel  of  Saint  Isidore.  Francesco,  to  whom  his 
brother  had  given  an  exact  account  of  the  scene  of 
the  evening  before,  was  so  deeply  wounded  by  this 
conduct  that  he  begged  Valerio  not  to  make  any 
further  attempt  to  ascertain  his  motives.  He  suffered 
in  silence,  resenting  more  strongly  an  injury  done 
to  his  beloved  brother  than  if  it  had  been  done  to 
himself  alone,  not  being  able  to  understand  how  one 
could  resist  the  frankness  and  sweetness  of  any  ex- 
planation given  by  Valerio.  He  pretended  not  to 
see  Bozza,  and  from  that  day  passed  him  by  as  if 
he  had  never  known  him.  Valerio,  who  well  knew 
that  his  brother  had  set  his  heart  upon  finishing  his 
cupola,  and  who  saw  the  annoyance  caused  him  by 
Bozza' s  desertion,  resolved  to  die  at  the  work  rather 
than  not  overcome  this  difficulty.  Francesco  was 
in  delicate  health.  His  proud  and  sensitive  soul  was 
107 


THE  MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

beset  with  the  fear  of  not  fulfilling  his  engagements. 
It  was  not  a  question  of  his  reputation  as  an  artist 
alone,  a  reputation  which  he  reproached  himself  for 
having  cherished  too  much,  since  he  found  himself 
retarded  for  want  of  some  one  to  do  the  mechanical 
work;  it  was  a  question  of  honor.  He  was  not 
ignorant  of  the  plots  already  attempted  by  the  Bian- 
chini  to  blacken  his  good  name.  When  he  had 
accepted  this  enormous  task,  his  father,  thinking  it 
too  much  of  an  undertaking  for  the  three  years  to 
which  it  was  limited,  had  tried  to  dissuade  them 
from  it.  Titian,  believing  that  Valerio's  pleasure- 
loving  life  and  the  poor  health  of  the  other  would 
make  the  execution  of  it  impossible,  advised  them 
many  times  to  become  reconciled  with  the  Bianchini, 
and  to  ask  of  the  Procurators  a  new  arrangement. 
But  the  Bianchini,  who  in  the  beginning  had  formed 
part  of  the  school  of  Francesco,  had  little  talent  and 
an  insurmountable  pride.  On  no  account  would 
Francesco  have  intrusted  to  them  a  work  under- 
taken and  carried  on  with  so  much  care  and  love. 

In  order  to  explain  how  important  it  was  that  this 
master  should  not  be  behind  for  a  single  day,  we 
must  go  back  a  little,  and  say  that  the  basilica  of 
St.  Mark  had  been  retouched  during  the  preceding 
years  by  incompetent  and  unreliable  workmen. 
1 08 


THE  MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

Considerable  expense  had  only  served  to  entertain 
a  troop  of  dissipated  artisans,  whose  work  it  was 
necessary  to  repair  at  a  great  cost.  Father  Alberto 
and  Rizzo,  first  mosaic  masters,  had  shown  to  the 
Procurators  the  necessity  of  observing  some  method 
in  regard  to  the  expense  and  the  work.  After  many 
experiments  it  was  finally  agreed  that  Francesco 
Zuccato  should  be  the  head  of  the  mosaic  studio ; 
and  Vincent  Bianchini,  notwithstanding  he  had  been 
banished  for  fourteen  years  under  accusation  of 
passing  false  money  and  for  having  committed 
several  murders, — one,  notably  that  of  his  barber, 
—  had,  thanks  to  the  strength  of  his  work  and  that 
of  his  two  brothers,  found  protection  in  the  person 
of  the  Procurator-Cassiere,  who  had  placed  him 
under  the  direction  of  the  Zuccati.  But,  harmony 
being  an  impossibility  between  these  two  families, 
Francesco  had  asked  permission  to  choose  some 
other  pupils,  and  he  had  obtained  it.  To  put  an 
end  to  the  quarrels  which  this  gave  rise  to,  and  to 
pacify  the  Procurator,  who  was  interested  in  the 
Bianchini,  the  commission  had  decided  to  believe 
upon  hearsay  that  the  latter  were  capable  of  work- 
ing without  direction  on  their  own  account.  To 
them  was  assigned  a  less  favorable  position  and  a 
longer  task  than  to  the  Zuccati.  They  themselves 
109 


THE  MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

had  made  these  conditions,  and  asked  this  trial  of 
their  talents.  From  that  time  they  had  not  ceased 
to  make  themselves  important  in  the  eyes  of  the 
commission,  who  were,  moreover,  anything  but 
enlightened  on  the  matter,  and  to  depreciate  the 
school  of  Francesco,  whose  modesty  and  candor 
would  not  allow  him  to  argue  against  them.  The 
commission  felt  themselves  in  honor  bound  to  have 
work  more  elaborate  and  better  done  at  less  expense 
than  in  the  past.  They  wished,  at  the  opening  of 
the  renovated  church,  to  deserve  praise  and  remu- 
neration from  the  Senate. 

Francesco  saw  the  fatal  day  approaching,  and  it 
was  in  vain  he  put  forth  all  his  strength;  hope 
began  to  forsake  him.  He  also  saw  that  Valerio, 
insensible  to  care  and  anxiety,  was  determined  to 
celebrate  on  that  same  day  the  organization  of  a 
company  of  men  of  pleasure.  Bozza's  withdrawal 
at  such  a  critical  moment  bewildered  him.  "  Even 
if,"  said  he  to  himself, "  Valerio  should  give  all  his 
time  and  strength  to  his  work,  it  would  not  amount 
to  much.  Let  him  amuse  himself,  then,  since  he  is 
so  fortunate  as  to  be  insensible  to  the  disgrace  of 
failure." 

But  he  was  mistaken  in  Valerio,  who  knew  too 
well  his  brother's  chivalrous  susceptibility  not  to 


THE  MASTER  MOSAIC- WORKERS. 

realize  also  that  he  would  be  inconsolable  under 
such  a  mortification.  Therefore  he  called  together 
his  favorite  pupils,  Marini,  Ceccato,  and  two  others. 
He  explained  to  them  the  condition  of  Francesco's 
mind,  and  that  of  all  the  school,  in  the  face  of 
pubHc  opinion.  He  besought  them  to  do  like  him- 
self, —  not  to  despair,  not  to  give  up  either  the 
work  or  the  pleasure,  but  to  remain  at  their  post 
until  all  was  successfully  accomplished,  even  were 
they  to  perish  the  day  after  Saint  iVlark's.  They  all 
swore  to  stand  by  him  without  relaxation,  and  they 
kept  their  word.  In  order  not  to  worry  Francesco, 
who  was  always  anxious  on  account  of  the  little 
care  Valerio  took  of  his  health,  they  covered  up 
with  planks  that  part  of  the  work  which  he  was 
reserving  for  his  last  touches,  and  worked  upon  it 
during  the  night.  A  light  mattress  was  thrown  upon 
the  scaffolding,  and  when  one  of  the  workmen  was 
overcome  with  fatigue,  he  stretched  himself  upon 
it  and  enjoyed  a  few  moments'  sleep,  interrupted  by 
the  joyous  singing  of  the  others  and  the  creaking 
of  the  planks  under  their  feet.  They  took  all  their 
trouble  in  good  part,  and  pretended  that  they  had 
never  rested  better  than  when  rocked  to  sleep  by 
the  scaffolding,  and  lulled  by  the  sound  of  the  ham- 
mer.    Valerio' s  constant  cheerfulness,  his  pleasant 


THE  MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

stories,  his  rollicking  songs,  and  the  great  cruse  of 
Cyprus  wine  which  was  passed  around,  kept  up  a 
wonderful  enthusiasm.  This  devotion  was  crowned 
with  success.  On  the  eve  of  Saint  Mark's,  as  the 
day  was  drawing  to  a  close,  and  when  Francesco, 
not  wishing  to  give  even  a  silent  reproach  to  his 
brother,  affected  a  resignation  which  he  was  far 
from  feeling  in  his  soul,  Valerio  gave  the  signal, 
the  pupils  took  away  the  planks,  and  the  master 
saw  the  festoon  and  the  beautiful  angels  that  sup- 
ported it  finished  as  if  by  magic. 

"Oh,  my  dear  Valerio!  "  cried  Francesco,  trans- 
ported with  joy  and  gratitude,  "  was  I  not  inspired 
when  I  gave  wings  to  your  portrait }  Are  you  not 
my  guardian  angel?  my  archangel  deliverer?" 

"I  was  very  desirous,"  said  Valerio,  returning  his 
caress,  "to  prove  to  you  that  I  could  attend  to 
affairs  of  business  and  those  of  pleasure  at  the  same 
time.  Now,  if  you  are  satisfied  with  me,  I  am  well 
paid  for  my  pains ;  but  you  must  also  thank  these 
courageous  companions  who  have  assisted  me  so 
kindly,  and  who  have  thereby  made  themselves 
worthy  of  the  mastership.  It  is  for  you  to  choose, 
I  do  not  say  the  most  skilful,  for  they  are  all  equal 
in  that  respect,  but  the  oldest  one  entitled  to  it." 

"  My  dear  children,"  said  Francesco,  after  cordially 


THE  MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

embracing  them,  '*you  have  all  of  late  made  gener- 
ous sacrifices  of  your  rights  and  of  your  wishes  to 
supply  the  loss  of  a  young  man  sick  with  ambition, 
whose  talents  and  troubles  seem  to  call  for  your 
interest  and  compassion.  You  had  resolved  among 
yourselves  to  prove  to  him  that  he  accused  you 
wrongfully  of  being  his  rivals  and  his  enemies. 
Caring  more  for  my  instruction  than  for  that  vain- 
glory with  which  he  is  consumed,  you  were  on  the 
point  of  giving  him  a  grand  example  of  virtue  and 
disinterestedness,  of  making  him  a  master  voluntarily 
and  against  his  expectations.  The  ungrateful  fellow 
could  not  wait  for  this  happy  day,  whereon  he  would 
have  been  forced  to  love  and  admire  you.  He 
has  flown  like  a  coward  from  masters  whom  he  has 
not  understood,  and  from  comrades  whom  he  has 
not  appreciated.  Forget  him.  Whoever  loses  you 
is  sufficiently  punished.  Where  shall  he  find  friend- 
ships more  sincere,  services  more  disinterested? 
Now,  one  place  of  mastership  is  at  your  disposal 
because  it  is  at  mine,  and  I  have  no  other  wish  than 
yours.  God  preserve  me  from  making  a  choice 
among  my  pupils  whom  I  esteem  and  love  so 
tenderly !  Make  your  own  election.  Whoever 
among  you  shall  have  the  greatest  number  of  votes 
shall  have  mine." 

"3 


THE  MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

"We  shall  not  be  long  deciding,"  said  Marini. 
"  We  supposed,  dear  master,  that  you  would  do  this 
year  as  in  preceding  years,  and  we  have  made  our 
choice.  Upon  me  has  fallen  the  greatest  number  of 
the  votes  of  the  school,  Ceccato  has  given  me  his, 
and  I  am  elected.  But  all  this  is  the  result  either  of 
injustice  or  of  misunderstanding.  Ceccato  works 
better  than  I.  Ceccato  has  a  wife  and  two  little 
children.  He  has  need  of  the  mastership  and  a 
right  to  it.  I  am  not  pressed,  I..have  no  family.  I 
am  happy  under  your  direction;  I  ha/e  yet  much 
to  learn.  I  transfer  all  my  votes  to  Ceccato,  and 
give  him  mine,  to  which  I  beg  you,  master,  to  add 
your  own." 

"Embrace  me,  brother,"  exclaimed  Francesco, 
clasping  Marini  in  his  arms.  "This  beautiful  act 
heals  the  wound  which  the  ingratitude  of  Bar- 
tolommeo  has  made  in  my  heart.  Yes,  there  are 
still  among  us  artists  of  great  soul  and  noble  devo- 
tion. Do  not  blush,  Ceccato,  in  accepting  this 
generous  sacrifice.  In  Marini' s  place,  we  all  know 
you  would  have  acted  as  he  has  done.  Be  as  proud 
as  if  you  were  the  hero  of  the  evening.  Whoever 
inspires  such  a  friendship  is  the  equal  of  him  who 
proves  it." 
Ceccato,  all  in  tears,  threw  himself  into  Marini' s 
114 


THE  MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

arms,  and  Francesco  made  it  his  duty  to  go  at  once 
to  the  Procurators,  in  order  that  they  might  ratify 
the  promotion  to  the  mastership  due  annually  to 
one  of  the  pupils,  according  to  the  terms  of  the  con- 
tract passed  between  him  and  these  magistrates. 

"We  will  go  and  wait  for  you  at  table,"  said 
Valerio,  "for  after  so  much  hard  work  we  need 
some  refreshment.  Make  haste  to  join  us,  brother, 
because  I  must  go  and  spend  half  the  night  at 
San  Filippo  preparatory  to  the  joyous  festivities 
of  to-morrow,  and  I  do  not  wish  to  leave  the 
supper  table  until  I  have  clicked  my  glass  with 
yours." 


"5 


XI. 

JUST  as  Francesco  was  ascending  the  grand  stair- 
case of  the  palace  of  the  Procurators,  he  met 
Bozza,  pale  and  absorbed  in  his  thoughts,  who  was 
coming  down.  Finding  himself  face  to  face  with 
his  old  master,  Bartolommeo  started,  and  was  evi- 
dently ill  at  ease.  As  Francesco  looked  at  him  with 
a  severity  befitting  this  encounter,  his  face  at  once 
fell,  llnd  his  pale  lips  moved  as  if  vainly  trying  to 
speak.  He  stepped  towards  his  master,  and  was 
about  to  salute  him.  Overcome  with  remorse, 
Bozza  would  have  given  his  life  could  he  at  this 
moment  have  thrown  himself  at  Francesco's  feet 
and  confessed  all.  But  Francesco's  cold  recogni- 
tion, the  crushing  look  he  cast  upon  him,  and  the 
pains  he  took  to  evade  his  salutation  by  turning 
away  when  he  saw  him  lift  his  hand  to  his  cap,  left 
him  without  courage  to  seize  this  opportune  mo- 
ment for  repentance.  He  stopped  irresolutely,  wait- 
ing for  Francesco  to  turn  and  encourage  him  with  a 
gentle  look.  Then  seeing  that  he  was  decidedly 
ii6 


THE  MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

condemned  and  deserted,  "  So  be  it,"  said  he,  clinch- 
ing his  fist  with  anger  and  despair.  Then  he  strode 
away. 

Francesco  went  first  to  the  apartment  of  the 
Procuratoi-Cassiere  who  was  the  head  of  the  com- 
mission. He  was  surprised  to  find  Vincent  Bian- 
chini  seated  familiarly  with  him,  and  haranguing  in 
a  loud  voice.  But  he  was  silent  as  soon  as  he  saw 
Francesco,  and  went  into  an  adjoining  room.  The 
Trocurator-Cassierej  Melchior,  frowned  and  affected 
an  austere  manner,  to  which  his  short,  broad  face, 
his  round  stomach  and  nasal  utterance,  gave  a  char- 
acter more  grotesque  than  imposing.  Francesco 
was  not  a  man,  however,  to  be  deceived  by  this 
professional  trickery;  he  greeted  him,  and  said  he 
was  happy  to  to  be  able  to  announce  to  him  that 
the  cupola  was  completed,  and  that  consequently  — 
But  the  Procurator-Cassiere  did  not  give  him  time  to 
finish  his  sentence. 

"  Well,  well !  at  last ! "  said  he,  looking  him  full 
in  the  eye  with  the  evident  intention  of  intimidating 
him.  "  It  is  wonderful,  Messer  Zuccato,  it  is  indeed. 
Will  you  have  the  goodness  to  explain  to  me  how  it 
was  so  quickly  accomplished?" 

"  So  quickly,  Monsignore  ?  It  has  been  very  slowly 
to  my  mind,  for  it  is  now  the  eve  of  the  appointed 
117 


THE  MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

day,  and  I  was  very  much  afraid  this  morning  that 
it  would  not  be  done  in  time." 

"  And  you  had  reason  to  be  afraid,  for  yesterday 
a  whole  quarter  of  your  festoon  was  yet  unfinished, 
a  task  requiring  about  a  month  of  ordinary  labor." 

"  That  is  true,"  answered  Francesco.  "  I  see  your 
Lordship  has  kept  track  of  the  least  details." 

•'A  man  like  me,  Messer,"  said  the  Procurator 
emphatically,  "knows  the  duties  of  his  office,  and 
does  not  allow  himself  to  be  imposed  upon  by  such 
a  man  as  you." 

"  A  man  Hke  your  Lordship,"  answered  Francesco, 
surprised  at  this  outburst,"  ought  to  know  that  a  man 
like  me  is  incapable  of  imposing  upon  any  one." 

"  Lower  your  voice,  Messer,  lower  your  voice," 
cried  the  Procurator,  "  or,  by  the  ducal  cap  !  I  will 
make  you  hold  your  tongue  for  a  long  time." 

The  Procurator  Melchior  had  the  honor  of  count- 
ing among  his  great-uncles  a  Doge  of  Venice,  so  he 
had  acquired  the  habit  of  thinking  that  he  was  a 
little  doge  himself,  and  always  swore  by  his  cap, 
which  was  made  like  a  Phrygian  bonnet  or  a  cornu- 
copia, the  august  insignia  of  the  ducal  dignity. 

"  I  see  that  your  Lordship  is  ill  disposed  to  listen 
to  me,"  answered  Francesco,  gently,  with  a  little 
touch  of  disdain  in  his  voice.  "I  shall  withdraw 
ii8 


THE  MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

for  fear  I  might  displease  you  further.  I  will  wait 
for  a  more  favorable  moment  —  " 

"To  demand  the  salary  for  your  laziness  and 
deceitfulness,"  exclaimed  the  Procurator.  '*The 
salary  of  those  who  steal  from  the  Republic  is 
imprisonment,  and  take  care  that  you  are  not  re- 
warded according  to  your  deserts." 

"  I  am  at  a  loss  to  know  why  you  make  me  such 
a  threat,"  answered  Francesco.  "  I  think  your  Lord- 
ship has  too  much  wisdom  and  experience  to  take 
advantage  of  my  present  position,  which  will  not 
allow  me  to  resent  an  insult  on  your  part.  The 
respect  due  to  your  age  and  dignity  closes  my 
mouth,  but  I  will  not  be  so  patient  with  the  villains 
who  have  poisoned  your  mind  against  me." 

"  By  the  cap !  this  is  not  the  place  to  play  the 
bully,  Messer.  See  that  you  justify  yourself  before 
accusing  others." 

"  I  will  justify  myself  before  your  Lordship,  and 
in  a  satisfactory  manner,  when  you  will  condescend 
to  tell  me  of  what  I  am  accused." 

"  You  are  accused,  Messer,  of  having  unworthily 
played  upon  the  Procurators  in  passing  yourself 
oif  for  a  mosaic-worker.  You  are  a  painter,  and 
nothing  else.  Indeed,  you  are  very  talented  in  that, 
by  the  cap  of  my  great-uncle !  I  congratulate  you. 
119 


THE  MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

But  you  are  not  paid  for  making  frescos,  and  we 
will  see  wliat  yours  are  wortii." 

"  I  swear  upon  my  honor  that  I  have  not  the  hap- 
piness to  understand  your  Lordship's  language." 

"Sdeath  !  We'll  make  you  understand,  and  until 
then  you  need  not  hope  to  receive  any  money.  Ah ! 
ah !  Mister  Painter,  you  were  right  when  you  said, 
*Monsignore  Melchior  understands  nothing  of  the 
work  which  we  do.  He  is  a  good  man,  but  much 
better  employed  in  drinking  than  in  directing  the 
fine  arts  of  the  RepubHc'  All  right,  all  right, 
Messer;  we  know  all  about  your  jokes  and  your 
brother's  at  our  expense  and  that  of  the  honorable 
body  of  magistrates.  'But  he  laughs  best  who 
laughs  last.'  We  will  see  what  a  figure  you  will 
cut  when  we  examine  in  person  this  beautiful  work ; 
and  you  will  see  that  we  know  the  difference  between 
enamel  and  paint,  pasteboard  and  stone." 

Francesco  could  not  repress  a  smile  of  scorn. 

"If  I  clearly  understand  the  accusation  brought 
against  me,"  he  said,  "I  am  guilty  of  having  re- 
placed some  parts  of  the  stone-work  by  painted 
pasteboard.  It  is  true,  I  made  something  to  re- 
semble the  Latin  inscription  which  your  Lordship 
ordered  me  to  place  above  the  outer  door.  I 
thought  that  your  Lordship,  not  having  taken  the 


THE  MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

trouble  yourself  to  prepare  this  inscription,  too 
flattering  for  us,  had  intrusted  it  to  some  one  who 
executed  it  in  haste.  I  therefore  took  the  liberty 
of  correcting  the  word  Saxihus,  but,  faithful  to 
the  duty  I  owe  to  the  honorable  Procurators,  I 
traced  the  word  in  stone  as  I  received  it  in  writ- 
ing from  their  hands,  and  allowed  my  brother 
to  make  the  correction  only  on  a  piece  of  paste- 
board glued  to  the  stone.  If  your  Lordship  thinks 
that  I  am  in  fault,  it  is  only  a  matter  of  taking  away 
the  pasteboard,  and  the  text  will  appear  beneath  it 
executed  to  the  letter,  as  can  be  plainly  proved  by 
your  own  eyes." 

"  Wonderful,  Messer  !  "  cried  the  Procurator, 
beside  himself  with  rage.  "You  are  convicting 
yourself.  Here  is  a  new  proof  of  which  I  shall  take 
note.  Hollo !  Secretary,  set  down  this  avowal.  By 
the  ducal  cap !  we  will  bring  down  your  insolent 
pride.  Ah!  you  think  you  can  correct  the  Pro- 
curators !  They  understand  Latin  better  than  you 
do.  Look  you,  what  a  scholar !  Who  would  sus- 
pect he  had  such  a  variety  of  information?  I 
will  beg  a  chair  for  you  as  Professor  of  the 
Latin  Language  in  the  University  of  Padua,  for 
surely  you  are  too  great  a  genius  to  devote  your- 
self to  mosaic  work." 

121 


THE  MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

"  If  your  Lordship  keeps  to  your  barbarism,  I  will 
go  directly  and  take  down  my  pasteboard,"  said 
Francesco,  wholly  out  of  patience.  "  All  the  Re- 
public will  know  to-morrow  that  the  Procurators 
cannot  boast  of  their  knowledge  of  Latin;  but 
what  does  it  matter  to  me?" 

Speaking  thus,  he  moved  toward  the  door,  while 
the  Procurator  cried  to  him  imperiously  to  leave  his 
presence,  a  command  which  he  did  not  need  to 
repeat,  for  he  was  no  longer  master  of  himself. 

Scarcely  had  he  left  the  chamber,  when  Vincent 
Bianchini,  who  had  heard  all  in  an  adjoining  room, 
entered  hurriedly. 

"Eh,  Monsignore,  what  are  you  doing .^"  said  he. 
"You  gave  him  to  understand  that  his  fraud  was 
discovered,  and  yet  you  let  him  go." 

"What  do  you  want  me  to  do.?"  answered  the 
Procurator.  "  I  refused  to  pay  him  his  salary,  and  I 
humiliated  him.  He  is  punished  enough  for  to-day. 
After  to-morrow  we  will  prepare  the  case." 

"  And  during  these  two  nights  he  will  slip  into  the 
basilica,  and  replace  all  the  pieces  of  pasteboard  with 
pieces  of  enamel,  and  so  I  shall  appear  to  have  made 
a  false  statement,  and  my  devotion  to  the  Republic 
will  turn  against  me." 

"  And  how  would  you  have  me  prevent  his  wicked 

122 


THE  MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

designs?"  said  the  bewildered  Procurator.  "I  will 
have  the  church  locked.'* 

"  You  cannot  do  it.  Being  the  vigil  of  St.  Mark, 
the  church  will  be  full  of  people,  and  who  knows  by 
what  means  he  could  not  enter  the  most  strongly 
fortified  place  ?  And  then  he  will  join  his  compan- 
ions, enter  into  an  understanding  with  them,  invent 
excuses  —  All  is  lost,  and  I  am  lost,  if  you  do  not 
punish  him  at  once." 

"You  are  right,  Bianchini,  he  must  be  punished 
at  once;  but  how?" 

"  Say  the  word,  send  two  officers  after  him,  he 
has  not  reached  the  foot  of  the  stairs ;  throw  him 
into  prison." 

"  By  the  ducal  cap  !  that  idea  did  not  occur  to  me. 
But,  Vincent,  is  n't  it  rather  severe,  such  an  act  of 
authority  —  " 

"  But,  Monsignore,  if  you  let  him  escape,  he  will 
make  fun  of  you  all  his  life,  and  his  brother,  the 
clever  fellow,  who  is  the  favorite  of  all  these  young 
patricians  so  jealous  of  your  power  and  wisdom, 
will  not  hesitate  to  joke  — " 

"You  are  right,  dear  Vincent,"  cried  the  Pro- 
curator, emphatically,  striking  the  little  bell  that 
stood  upon  his  desk.  "  The  ducal  dignity  must  be 
respected,  for  I  am  of  the  ducal  family,  you  know?'* 
123 


THE  MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

"And  you  will  be  Doge  some  day,  I  hope/'  re- 
plied Bianchini.  "  All  Venice  counts  on  saluting  you 
with  the  cap  on  your  head." 

The  officers  were  despatched.  Five  minutes  later, 
poor  Francesco,  not  knowing  by  virtue  of  what 
power  nor  in  punishment  for  what-  crime,  was  led 
blindfolded  across  a  labyrinth  of  galleries,  courts, 
and  staircases,  toward  the  cell  for  which  he  was 
destined.  He  stopped  for  a  moment  during  this 
mysterious  journey,  and,  by  the  sound  of  water 
murmuring  beneath  him,  he  knew  he  was  crossing 
the  Bridge  of  Sighs.  His  heart  stood  still,  and  the 
name  of  Valerio  escaped  from  his  lips  like  an  eternal 
farewell. 


124 


XIL 

VALERIO  waited  for  his  brother  at  the  tavern 
until  the  moment  when,  urged  by  the  young 
people  who  went  there  to  find  him,  he  was  obliged 
to  give  up  the  hope  of  drinking  with  him  and  with 
the  new  master,  Ceccato,  that  evening.  Burdened 
with  a  thousand  cares,  weighed  down  with  a  thou- 
sand responsibilities  for  the  fete  of  the  morrow,  he 
passed  half  the  night  running  from  his  studio  in 
San  Filippo  to  the  Place  St.  Mark,  where  arrange- 
ments were  being  made  for  the  game  of  rings,  and 
from  there  to  the  different  workmen  and  manu- 
facturers whom  he  employed  for  this  occasion. 
Wherever  he  went,  he  was  accompanied  by  his 
stanch  apprentices,  and  many  other  young  men  of 
different  callings  who  were  deeply  attached  to  him, 
and  whom  he  engaged  to  carry  messages  from  place 
to  place.  When  the  waggish  band  drew  up  in  march- 
ing order,  it  was  to  the  tune  of  song  and  laughter, 
joyous  preludes  of  the  morrow's  festivities. 
125 


THE  MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

Valerio  did  not  enter  his  lodging  until  three 
o^clock  in  the  morning.  He  was  surprised  not  to 
find  his  brother  there;  however,  he  did  not  give 
himself  any  unreasonable  anxiety  on  that  account. 
Francesco  had  a  little  love  aflfair  which  he  neglected 
when  art,  his  favorite  passion,  required  all  his  time, 
but  for  which  he  generally  managed  to  absent  him- 
self whenever  his  work  allowed  him  a  little  respite. 
Moreover,  Valerio  was  not  much  inclined  by  nature 
to  foresee  evil,  the  very  fear  of  which  wears  out  the 
greater  part  of  humanity.  He  went  to  sleep,  reckon- 
ing on  finding  his  brother  in  the  morning,  either  at 
San  Filippo  or  where  the  first  meeting  of  the  gay 
companions  of  the  Lizard  was  to  take  place. 

All  the  world  knows  that  in  the  halcyon  days  of 
her  splendor  the  Republic  of  Venice,  in  addition  to 
the  numerous  corporations  constituted  to  maintain 
her  laws,  counted  in  her  midst  private  associations 
approved  by  the  Senate,  devout  societies  encouraged 
by  the  clergy,  and  pleasure  organizations  tolerated 
and  even  flattered  in  secret  by  a  government  anxious 
to  encourage  by  its  love  of  pleasure  the  industry 
of  the  working  classes.  The  devout  confraternities 
were  often  composed  of  people  representing  but 
one  trade  or  profession,  as  that  of  merchants, 
tailors,  gunners,  etc.  Others  were  made  up  of 
126 


THE  MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

various  workmen  or  merchants  of  the  same  parish, 
who  called  themselves  by  its  name,  as  that  of 
St.  John  the  Beggar,  the  Madonna  of  the  Garden, 
St.  George  in  the  Seaweed,  St.  Francis  of  the  Vine- 
yard, etc.  Each  society  had  a  building,  called  its 
studio  (scuola),  which  was  decorated  at  the  common 
expense  with  works  of  the  greatest  masters  in 
painting,  sculpture,  and  architecture.  These  studios 
were  composed  generally  of  a  lower  loom,  called 
Valhergo,  where  the  members  assembled,  a  rich  stair- 
way, which  was  in  itself  a  sort  of  museum,  and  a 
vast  hall  where  Mass  was  said  and  where  they  held 
their  conferences.  There  are  still  many  studios  in 
Venice  which  the  government  has  preserved  as  monu- 
ments of  art,  or  which  have  become  the  property 
of  private  individuals.  That  of  St.  Mark  is  to-day 
the  museum  of  the  paintings  of  the  city  That  of 
St.  Roch  contains  many  masterpieces  of  Tintoretto 
and  other  illustrious  masters.  The  mosaic  pave- 
ments, the  ceilings  loaded  with  gold  or  ornamented 
with  frescos  by  Veronese  or  Pordenone,  the  wain- 
scoting sculptured  in  wood  or  engraved  in  bronze, 
the  minute  and  dainty  bas-reliefs  in  which  the  entire 
life  of  Christ  or  of  some  favorite  saint  is  executed 
in  white  marble  with  inconceivable  finish  and  detail, 
—  such  are  the  vestiges  of  that  power  and  richness 
127 


THE  MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

to  which  aristocratic  republics  can  attain,  but  under 
which  they  must  inevitably  perish. 

Moreover,  each  society  or  confraternity  had  its 
patronal  feast,  called  sagra,  on  which  occasions  it 
appeared  in  all  its  splendor,  and  had  the  privilege  of 
taking  part  in  all  the  feasts  and  solemnities  of  the 
Republic,  decorated  with  the  insignia  of  the  associa- 
tion. In  the  procession  of  St.  Mark,  they  held  the 
rank  of  parishioners,  that  is,  they  walked  behind  the 
clergy  from  their  church,  carrying  their  reliquaries, 
crosses,  and  banners,  taking  their  places  in  chapels 
reserved  for  them  during  the  ceremonies.  The 
pleasure  societies  did  not  enjoy  the  same  privileges, 
but  they  were  permitted  to  repair  to  the  great 
square,  to  erect  their  tents  there,  and  to  carry  on 
their  jousts  and  banquets.  Each  company  took  its 
title  and  its  emblem  according  to  its  fancy,  and 
met  wherever  it  pleased.  Some  were  composed  of 
noblemen  only,  others  admitted  noblemen  and  ple- 
beians indiscriminately,  thanks  to  that  apparent 
fusion  of  classes  which  we  see  in  Venice  to-day. 
The  old  paintings  have  preserved  to  us  the  elegant 
and  picturesque  costumes  of  the  Company  of  the 
Stocking,  who  wore  one  red  stocking  and  one  white, 
the  rest  of  the  dress  being  made  of  a  variety  of  the 
most  brilliant  colors.  The  Company  of  St.  Mark 
128 


THE  MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

wore  a  golden  lion  on  the  breast;  that  of  St 
Theodosius,  a  silver  crocodile  on  the  arm,  etc. 

Valerio,  celebrated  for  his  exquisite  taste  and 
ready  skill  at  inventing  and  executing  things  of  this 
kind,  had  ordered  and  directed  everything  pertain- 
ing to  the  exterior  ornamentation,  and  it  may  be 
said  that  in  this  respect  the  Company  of  the  Lizard 
eclipsed  all  the  others.  He  had  chosen  this  climbing 
animal  for  their  emblem,  because  all  classes  of 
artisans,  who  composed  their  best  members, — 
architects,  sculptors,  glaziers  and  painters  on  glass, 
mosaic-workers,  and  fresco-painters,  —  were,  by  the 
nature  of  their  work,  accustomed  to  climb,  and  to  live, 
after  a  fashion,  suspended  to  the  walls  of  the  arches. 

On  the  Feast  of  Saint  Mark,  1570,  according  to 
Stringa,  and  1574,  according  to  others,  the  immense 
procession  made  the  circuit  of  the  Place  St.  Mark 
under  the  tents  in  the  arcades  purposely  erected  in 
the  form  of  arches  outside  of  the  arcades  of  the 
Procuraties,  which  were  too  low  to  admit  the  enor- 
mous crosses  of  solid  gold,  the  huge  chandeliers, 
the  shrines  of  lapis-lazuH  surmounted  with  lilies  cut 
in  silver,  the  reliquaries  terminating  in  pyramids  of 
precious  stones, —  in  a  word,  all  that  luxuriant 
pageantry  of  which  priests  are  so  jealous  and  the 
common  people  of  the  corporations  so  vain.  No 
129 


THE  MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

sooner  was  the  religious  chant  lost  within  the  spa- 
cious vestibule  of  the  basilica,  while  children  and 
poor  people  busied  themselves  picking  up  the  drops 
of  perfumed  wax  which  had  fallen  upon  the  pave- 
ments from  thousands  of  tapers,  and  sought  eagerly 
for  any  stray  stones  or  pearls  which  might  have 
escaped  from  the  sacred  jewels,  than  there  appeared 
in  the  centre  of  the  place  as  if  by  magic  a  large 
circle  surrounded  by  wooden  galleries,  gracefully 
decorated  with  variegated  festoons  and  silken  dra- 
peries, beneath  which  the  ladies  could  sit  sheltered 
from  the  sun  and  watch  the  games.  The  pillars 
which  supported  the  galleries  were  covered  with 
waving  banners,  upon  which  were  romantic  mottoes 
in  the  naive  and  sprightly  dialect  of  Venice.  In  the 
midst  stood  a  colossal  pillar  in  the  form  of  a  palm 
tree,  upon  the  trunk  of  which  were  crawling  a 
crowd  of  charming  lizards,  in  gold,  silver,  green, 
blue,  and  striped,  infinitely  varied.  From  the  top  of 
the  tree  a  beautiful  fairy  with  white  wings  leaned 
towards  this  agile  group,  extending  to  it  a  crown  in 
each  hand.  At  the  foot  of  the  trunk,  upon  a  crim- 
son velvet  platform,  beneath  a  dais  of  brocade 
garnished  with  the  most  ingenious  arabesques,  was 
seated  the  queen  of  the  feast,  the  giver  of  prizes,  — 
little  Marie  Robusti,  the  daughter  of  Tintoretto,  a 
130 


THE  MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

beautiful  child  ten  or  twelve  years  of  age,  whom 
Valerio  took  pleasure  in  calling  playfully  his  lady 
love,  to  whom  he  showed  the  most  tender  care 
and  courteous  attentions.  When  the  galleries  were 
filled,  she  appeared,  dressed  after  the  manner  of 
Giambellino's  angels,  in  a  white  tunic,  with  a  veil 
of  sky-blue  and  a  delicate  wreath  of  young  vine  on 
her  beautiful  fair  hair,  which  fell  in  a  thick  golden 
mass  about  her  alabaster  neck.  Messer  Orazio 
Vecelli,  Titian's  son,  gave  her  his  hand.  He  was 
dressed  in  oriental  costume,  for  he  had  come  from 
Byzantium  with  his  father.  He  seated  himself  near 
her,  as  did  also  a  numerous  group  of  young  men 
distinguished  by  their  talent  or  their  birth,  for 
whom  places  of  honor  had  been  reserved  on  the 
steps  of  the  platform.  The  galleries  were  filled  with 
the  most  brilliant  ladies,  escorted  by  gallant  cava- 
liers. In  a  large  reserved  enclosure  many  prominent 
persons  did  not  disdain  to  take  their  places.  The 
Doge  had  set  them  the  example.  He  accompanied 
the  young  Duke  of  Anjou,  who  was  to  become 
Henry  III.,  King  of  France,  and  who  was  then  pass- 
ing through  Venice.  Luigi  Mocenigo  (the  Doge) 
had  it  at  heart  to  do  him  the  honors  of  the  city, 
and  to  display  before  his  eyes,  accustomed  to  the 
more  austere  pastimes  and  barbarous  festivals  of 
131 


THE  MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

the  Sarmatians,  the  dazzling  luxury  and  enchanting 
gayety  of  the  beautiful  youth  of  Venice. 

When  all  were  seated,  a  purple  curtain  was  raised, 
and  the  glittering  Company  of  the  Lizard  came  forth 
from  a  tent  closed  until  then.  They  formed  a  solid 
phalanx,  having  at  their  head  musicians  dressed  in 
the  grotesque  costumes  of  ancient  times,  and  in  the 
centre  was  their  leader,  Valerio.  They  advanced  in 
good  order  until  opposite  the  Doge  and  the  Senators. 
There  the  ranks  parted,  and  Valerio,  taking  from  the 
hands  of  the  standard  bearer  the  red  satin  banner, 
on  which  shone  a  silver  lizard,  came  forward,  and, 
on  his  bended  knee,  saluted  the  Chief  of  the  Republic. 
There  was  a  murmur  of  admiration  at  the  sight  of 
this  beautiful  young  man,  whose  strange  and  mag- 
nificent costume  showed  to  advantage  his  elegant 
and  graceful  proportions.  His  tight-fitting  green 
velvet  coat  with  large  slashed  sleeves  was  open  at 
the  breast,  revealing  a  corslet  made  of  a  kind  of 
goods  from  Smyrna  with  a  gold  foundation  covered 
with  flowers  in  silk  admirably  shaded.  He  wore  on 
his  left  thigh  the  escutcheon  of  the  company,  repre- 
senting the  lizard,  embroidered  with  fine  pearls  on  a 
crimson  velvet  ground.  His  belt  was  a  masterpiece 
of  arabesque,  and  his  poniard,  studded  with  stones, 
was  the  gift  of  Messer  Tiziano,  who  had  brought 
132 


THE  MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

it  to  him  from  the  East.  A  superb  white  plume, 
fastened  to  his  cap  by  a  diamond  clasp,  fell  behind 
to  his  waist,  and  swayed  with  his  movements  as 
gracefully  as  the  majestic  aigrette  of  the  Chinese 
pheasant,  which  rises  and  falls  at  every  sterp. 

For  a  brief  moment  an  expression  of  joy  at  such 
success  and  the  naive  pride  of  youth  shone  upon  the 
animated  face  of  the  young  man,  and  his  sparkling 
eyes  wandered  over  the  galleries  and  caught  all 
glances  fastened  upon  himself.  But  soon  this  fur- 
tive joy  gave  place  to  a  dark  foreboding.  His  eyes 
anxiously  sought  anew  some  one  in  the  crowd, 
but  could  not  find  him.  Vaierio  stifled  a  sigh  and 
returned  to  his  phalanx,  where  he  remained  preoc- 
cupied, insensible  to  the  gayety  of  others,  deaf  to  the 
noise  of  the  fete,  his  face  ciarkened  by  a  heavy  cloud. 
Francesco,  in  spite  of  the  promise  he  had  made,  him 
to  present  the  standard  to  the  Doge  himself,  had 
not  appeared. 


133 


XIII. 

THE  brilliant  phalanx  of  the  Company  of  the 
Lizard  marched  three  times  round  the  circle, 
amid  the  wild  applause  of  the  people,  who  were 
amazed,  not  without  reason,  at  the  beautiful  cos- 
tumes and  fine  appearance  of  all  the  young  cham- 
pions. According  to  the  statutes  of  the  company, 
it  was  necessary  in  order  to  become  a  member  to 
be  of  a  certain  height,  to  have  no  deformity,  to 
be  under  forty  years  of  age,  to  come  of  an  honest 
family,  and  consequently  not  to  show  any  of  those 
signs  of  hereditary  degradation  which  perpetuate 
the  stigma  of  original  vice,  from  generation  to 
generation,  in  the  form  of  physical  ugliness.  Each 
candidate  was  obliged  to  give  proof  of  good  health, 
frankness,  and  loyalty,  by  drinking  copiously  on  the 
day  of  approval.  Valerio  had  it  for  a  maxim  that  a 
good  workman  ought  to  b.e  able  to  drink  wine 
without  becoming  intoxicated,  and  that  an  honest 
man  should  have  no  fear  for  his  reputation,  nor  for 
that  of  his  neighbor,  through  a  candor  forced  out 
134 


THE  MASTER  MOSAIC- WORKERS. 

of  him  by  drunkenness.  Certain  statutes  of  this 
jovial  confraternity  are  curious  enough  to  be  re- 
corded here. 

"  No  one  shall  be  admitted  who  cannot  drink  six 
measures  of  Cyprus  wine  without  falling  into 
idiocy. 

"  No  one  shall  be  admitted  who,  at  the  seventh 
measure,  babbles  anything  to  the  detriment  of  a 
friend  or  a  companion. 

"No  one  shall  be  admitted  who,  at  the  eighth 
measure,  shall  reveal  the  secret  of  his  loves,  and 
tell  the  name  of  his  sweetheart. 

"No  one  shall  be  admitted  who,  at  the  ninth 
measure,  will  betray  the  confidence  of  a  friend. 

"No  one  shall  be  admitted  who,  at  the  tenth 
measure,  does  not  know  enough  to  stop  and  refuse 
to  drink." 

It  is  difficult  to  determine  to-day  what  this  meas- 
ure of  Cyprus  wine  was;  but  if  we  judge  by  the 
weight  of  the  armor  which  they  carried  to  battle, 
the  formidable  samples  of  which  are  still  in  our 
museums,  we  must  believe  that  they  would  make 
the  most  intrepid  drinkers  of  to-day  recoil. 

Like  their  chief,  the  Companions  of  the  Lizard 
wore  a  green  doublet;  the  rest  of  the  dress  was 
white  and  close  fitting,  but  their  waistcoats  were 
135 


THE  MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

of  yellow  silk,  their  plumes  were  scarlet,  and  they 
carried  a  black  and  silver  shield. 

When  the  company  had  sufficiently  promenaded 
and  displayed  their  costumes  and  banners,  they 
re-entered  their  tent,  and  twenty  span  of  horses 
appeared  in  the  arena.  The  introduction  of  these 
noble  animals  in  their  feasts  was  a  luxury  highly 
appreciated  in  Venice,  and,  as  if  the  idea  formed  of 
them  by  a  people  little  accustomed  to  seeing  them 
could  not  be  satisfied  by  the  reality,  they  were  met- 
amorphosed by  the  aid  of  very  grotesque  para- 
phernalia into  fantastic  animals.  Their  coats  were 
painted,  and  false  tails,  either  of  foxes,  bulls,  or 
lions,  were  fastened  to  them.  The  heads  of  some 
were  decorated  with  birds'  feathers  or  golden  horns, 
or  with  masks  of  fabulous  animals.  Those  be- 
longing to  the  Companions  of  the  Lizard  were 
more  beautiful  than  the  others,  and  therefore  were 
less  foolishly  transformed  than  was  the  custom  at 
this  time.  Nevertheless,  some  of  them  were  dis- 
guised as  unicorns,  by  a  long  silver  horn  attached 
to  the  front  of  their  bridles;  others  had  glittering 
dragons  or  stuffed  birds  upon  their  heads.  All  of 
them  were  painted,  some  rose-color,  some  turquoise- 
blue,  apple-green,  or  scarlet ;  some  were  striped  like 
zebras  or  spotted  like  panthers;  and  others  were 

136 


THE  MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

covered  with  golden  scales  resembling  the  great  fishes 
of  the  sea.  Each  span,  similarly  caparisoned,  entered 
the  lists,  led  by  a  Moretto,  or  little  black  slave,  gro- 
tesquely dressed,  and  walking  between  the  two 
quadrupeds,  which  caracoled  pleasingly  at  the  sound 
of  the  trumpets  and  the  shouts  of  enthusiasm. 

Valerio  alone,  influenced  by  the  laws  of  a  purer 
taste,  appeared  on  a  Turkish  horse  as  white  as 
snow,  and  of  remarkable  beauty.  He  had  only  a 
simple  housing  of  tiger  skin,  and  broad  silver  bands 
served  him  as  reins.  His  mane,  long  and  silky, 
mixed  with  silver  threads,  was  twisted  into  tresses, 
and  each  tress  terminated  with  a  beautiful  pome- 
granate flower  cut  in  silver  and  of  exquisite  work- 
manship. His  hoofs  were  silvered,  and  his  full 
magnificent  tail  swept  freely  against  his  generous 
flanks.  Like  his  master,  he  wore  the  ensign  of  the 
company,  a  silver  lizard  on  a  crimson  ground, 
painted  with  extreme  care  on  the  left  haunch ;  and, 
as  he  had  the  honor  of  carrying  the  chief,  he  was 
the  only  horse  decorated  with  the  escutcheon. 

Valerio  had  the  horses  uncoupled,  and,  placing 
himself  at  the  foot  of  the  platform  where  sat  little 
Marie  Robusti,  he  manifested  his  approval  of  ten 
merry  companions  who  offered  to  sustain  the  chal- 
lenges, and  who,  mounting  on  their  horses,  placed 
137 


THE  MASTER  MOSAIC- WORKERS. 

themselves  five  at  his  right,  and  five  at  his  left 
Then  the  young  Moors  walked  the  other  ten  un- 
matched horses  around  the  arena  again,  waiting 
until  the  ten  champions  taken  from  the  people 
should  present  themselves  for  the  race.  They  had 
not  long  to  wait,  and  the  games  began. 

After  having  run  at  the  ring,  and  gained  and  lost 
the  prize  alternately,  other  young  men  came  from 
the  galleries  and  presented  themselves  to  take  the 
place  of  the  losers,  while  other  Companions  of  the 
Lizard  replaced  those  from  their  lists  who  had  been 
vanquished.  The  games  went  on  in  this  way  for 
some  time.  The  chief  remained  all  the  while  on 
horseback,  presiding  over  the  sports,  going  and 
coming,  and  far  more  frequently  entertaining  him- 
self with  his  dear  little  Marie,  who  besought  him  in 
vain  to  take  part  in  them,  for  it  was  to  him  alone, 
she  said,  she  wished  to  give  the  grand  prize.  Valerio 
had  superior  skill  in  all  these  exercises,  of  which  he 
scorned  to  make  a  parade.  He  preferred  to  diiect 
and  keep  up  the  pleasure  of  his  companions.  More- 
over, he  was  sad  and  preoccupied.  He  did  not 
understand  how  it  was,  that,  after  the  proof  of  de- 
votion he  had  given  his  brother  by  finishing  his 
work,  he  should  push  his  austerity  to  the  point  of 
not  assisting  at  the  fete  even  as  a  spectator. 
138 


THE  MASTER  MOSAIC -WORKERS. 

But  Valerio  awoke  from  his  reverie  when  the 
three  Bianchini  descended  into  the  arena,  and  asked 
to  compete  with  the  best  racers  in  the  company. 
Dominique  Bianchini,  called  Rosette  (the  Red),  was  a 
very  good  horseman.  He  had  lived  for  a  long  time 
in  other  countries  than  Venice,  in  which  city  horse- 
manship was  but  little  understood.  All  the  Com- 
panions of  the  Lizard  were  not  good  riders.  Only 
those  who  had  been  brought  up  in  the  country, 
or  who  were  strangers  in  the  city,  knew  how  to 
manage  the  bridle  and  to  sit  upright  in  the  sad- 
dle, a  thing  far  less  easy  than  a  Venetian  gondola. 
Three  of  the  most  expert  presented  themselves 
against  the  Bianchini,  and  were  vanquished  at  the 
first  round;  then  others  succeeded  them  with  the 
like  result.  The  honor  of  the  company  was  at 
stake.  Valerio  felt  it,  for,  until  then,  the  cavaliers 
had  had  the  advantage  over  all  the  young  men 
of  the  city,  and  even  over  the  noble  lords  who  had 
not  disdained  to  compete  with  them.  But  his  heart 
was  so  sad  that  he  did  not  care  to  accept  the  chal- 
lenge, and  bring  down  the  pride  of  the  Bianchini. 
Vincent,  seeing  his  indifference,  and  attributing  it 
to  the  fear  of  being  vanquished,  cried  to  him  with 
the  voice  of  a  bricklayer  -.  — 

"  Hollo !  eh,  Monsignore,  Prince  of  the  Lizards, 
139 


THE  MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

are  you  changed  into  a  tortoise,  and  do  you  find  no 
more  champions  to  oppose  us  ? " 

Valerio  made  a  sign,  and  Ceccato  and  Marini 
advanced. 

"  And  you,  Signore  Valerio,  royal  Lizardee,"  cried 
in  his  turn  Dominique  the  Red,  **  do  you  not  con- 
descend to  risk  yourself  with  an  antagonist  so 
insignificant  as  myself?" 

*' Immediately,  if  necessary,"  answered  Valerio. 
"Let  your  brothers  try  first  with  my  two  com- 
panions, and  if  they  are  beaten,  I  will  give  you  a 
chance." 

The  two  Bianchini  were  again  victorious;  and 
Valerio,  determined  not  to  leave  them  in  the  ascen- 
dant, at  last  set  spurs  to  his  horse,  and  threw  him 
into  a  gallop.  The  trumpets  blazed  forth  with 
sounds  more  proud  and  joyous,  when  he  was  seen 
swift  as  lightning  making  the  circuit  of  the  arena 
three  times  without  deigning  to  raise  his  arm  or 
look  at  the  mark ;  and  suddenly,  when  he  seemed  to 
be  thinking  of  something  else  and  acting  like  one 
preoccupied,  he  carried  off  the  five  rings,  with  a 
nonchalant  and  disdainful  air.  The  Bianchini,  as  yet, 
had  taken  but  four ;  they  were,  moreover,  fatigued, 
and,  as  they  had  won  until  then,  their  defeat  was  not 
calculated  to  cause  them  much  shame.  But  Rosetto, 
140 


THE  MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

who  had  not  taken  part  in  the  last  contest,  and  who 
had  been  resting  for  some  moments,  was  burning 
with  the  desire  to  humiliate  Valerio.  He  felt  a  par- 
ticular hatred  for  him,  especially  since  Valerio  had 
prevented  his  being  received  into  the  Company  of 
the  Lizard  on  account  of  his  repulsive  ugliness. 
Vincent,  his  elder  brother,  had  been  refused  admis- 
sion for  having  committed  a  dishonorable  act, 
and  for  having  gone  through  a  damaging  lawsuit. 
Gian  Antonio  alone  had  been  admitted  on  trial ;  but 
he  had  not  been  able  to  drink  three  measures  of 
wine  without  losing  his  head  and  insulting  in  words 
several  very  respectable  people.  All  three  of  them 
found  themselves  excluded  from  the  company  in  a 
very  mortifying  manner,  and  in  order  to  avenge 
themselves  they  had  made  Bozza  believe  that  he  had 
been  rejected  beforehand  because  he  was  a  bastard, 
and  thus  they  prevented  him  from  trying  to  enter 
their  ranks. 

Dominique  darted  toward  Valerio,  who  wished 
to  return  to  his  place,  and  leave  the  game  to  the 
others. 

"  You  promised  me  a  chance  to  revenge  myself, 
Don  Lizard,"  said  he.  "  Do  you  already  withdraw 
from  the  game?" 

Valerio  turned,  looked  at  Dominique  with  a  con- 
141 


THE  MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

temptuous  smile,  and  entered  the  arena  without 
honoring  him  with  any  other  answer. 

"Begin,  since  you  are  winning,**  said  Dominique. 
"  Honor  to  whom  honor  is  due." 

Valerio  darted  forward  and  secured  four  rings, 
but  what  did  not  happen  to  him  once  in  a  hundred 
times  happened  at  the  fifth  ring :  he  let  it  fall  upon 
the  ground.  He  had  been  startled  by  the  face  of  his 
father,  which  had  suddenly  appeared  in  one  of  the 
near  galleries.  The  old  Zuccato  seemed  worried. 
He  sought  the  eyes  of  Francesco,  and  the  stern  look 
he  gave  Valerio  seemed  to  ask  him,  as  formerly  a 
mysterious  voice  asked  Cain,  "  What  hast  thou  done 
with  thy  brother?" 

The  Bianchini  uttered  a  cry  of  joy.  They  felt 
sure  they  would  be  avenged  by  Dominique,  but  the 
proud  precipitation  with  which  he  finished  his  course 
betrayed  him ;  he  missed  the  fourth  ring.  Valerio 
was  conqueror.  Under  any  other  circumstances 
this  victory  would  not  have  satisfied  his  self-esteem, 
but  he  was  so  anxious  to  close  the  games  and  go  in 
search  of  his  brother  that  he  drew  a  long  breath 
when  commanded  to  advance  and  receive  the  prize. 
Already  Marie's  little  hands  held  out  to  him  the 
embroidered  scarf,  and  he  was  preparing  to  dis- 
mount amid  shouts  of  congratulations,  when  Bar- 
142 


THE  MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

tolommeo  Bozza,  dressed  in  black  from  head  to 
foot,  his  cap  ornamented  with  an  eagle's  plume, 
appeared  in  the  arena  so  suddenly  that  he  seemed  to 
have  come  out  of  the  earth.  He  asked  to  take  sides 
with  the  Bianchini. 

"  I  have  had  enough  of  it;  the  game  is  finished/' 
said  Valerio  testily. 

"  Since  when,"  cried  Bozza  in  a  sharp  and  satirical 
tone,  "  did  a  chief  of  the  arena  draw  back  at  the  last 
moment  through  fear  of  losing  a  prize  illy  won? 
According  to  the  very  terms  of  the  game  you  owe 
Messer  Dominique  a  chance  to  rataliate,  for  he  was 
evidently  distracted  during  his  last  turn ;  moreover,  he 
was  very  tired,  and  you  ought  not  to  be.  Come  on ! 
If  you  are  not  as  cowardly  and  fugacious  as  the  Hzard, 
your  emblem,  you  are  bound  to  give  me  a  chance." 

"I  will  give  you  that  chance,"  replied  Valerio 
angrily, "  but  this  evening  or  to-morrow  you  will 
give  me  one  of  a  more  serious  kind  for  the  manner 
in  which  you  have  dared  to  speak  to  me.  Come, 
begin.  I  throw  up  my  hand,  and  give  you  three 
points." 

"  I  do  not  want  even  one,"  cried  Bozza.    "  Quick ! 
a  horse !    What !  this  sorry  jade !  "  said  he,  turning 
towards  the  Moor  who  offered  him  a  mettlesome 
steed.    "  Have  n't  you  a  fresher  one } " 
143 


THE  MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

So  saying,  he  threw  himself  upon  the  horse  with 
surprising  agihty,  without  putting  his  foot  in  the 
5+irrup,  and  made  him  rear  and  caracole  with  such 
audacity  that  everybody  was  impressed  in  his  favor. 
Then  he  darted  like  lightning  into  the  course. 

"  I  never  play  for  less  than  ten  rings,"  he  shouted 
in  an  arrogant  tone. 

"  All  right,  ten  rings ! "  said  Valerio,  whose 
troubled  look  began  to  shake  the  confidence  of 
his  partisans. 

Bozza  brought  down  the  ten  rings  at  a  single 
round;  then,  suddenly  checking  his  horse  at  the 
height  of  his  speed,  after  the  daring  and  powerful 
manner  of  the  Arabs,  he  leaped  to  the  ground  while 
the  animal  reared  again,  flung  his  weapon  into  the 
middle  of  the  arena,  and  went  to  throw  himself  care- 
lessly at  the  feet  of  Marie  Robusti,  casting  a  look  of 
freezing  irony  upon  his  adversary. 

Valerio,  wounded  to  the  quick,  felt  his  courage 
rekindled.  He  had  eleven  rings  to  take  in  order  to 
win.  He  was  capable  of  doing  it,  but  it  was  not 
exactly  what  he  was  in  the  habit  of  doing ;  for  the 
games  were  rarely  more  than  five,  and  Bozza  must 
have  practised  considerably  to  meet  with  such 
success  all  at  once.  Nevertheless,  contempt  and 
resentment  gave  strength  to  the  young  master.  He 
144 


THE  MASTER  MOSAIO-WORKERS. 

Started,  and  made  nine  rings  easily ;  but,  when  about 
to  take  the  tenth,  he  was  conscious  that  he  trembled, 
and  struck  spurs  to  his  horse  in  order  to  hide  it 
and  to  have  a  chance  to  recover  himself. 

"  Well,  well !  "  said  a  voice  in  a  neighboring igallery. 

It  was  the  voice  of  old  Zuccato ;  it  seemed  to  say, 
"You  lose  time,  Valerio,  and  your  brother  is  in 
danger."  At  least  so  Valerio  thought,  for  his  mind 
was  bewildered.  He  turned  his  horse,  and  made  the 
tenth  ring. 

Bozza  grew  pale.  One  ring  more,  and  he  was 
vanquished;  but  this  would  decide  it,  and  Valeri'o 
was  plainly  excited.  However,  pride  fought  with 
this  interior  terror,  and  he  would  assuredly  have 
won  if  Vincent  Bianchini,  seeing  his  triumph  immi- 
nent, and  finding  himself  near  enough  to  make 
himself  heard,  had  not  said  to  him,  while  flinging 
upon  him  a  look  of  malediction :  — 

"  Yes,  play,  win,  enjoy  yourself,  rampant  beast ! 
you  will  soon  crawl  under  the  leads  with  your 
brother ! " 

At  the  moment  he  uttered  these  last  words,  Vale- 
rio threaded  the  ring ;  he  turned  pale  as  death,  and 
let  it  fall.  Shouts  arose  from  all  sides;  the  com- 
panions and  all  the  partisans  of  the  Bianchini  yelled 
with  wild  and  insolent  joy. 
145 


THE  MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

"My  brother!"  cried  Valeric,  "my  brother 
under  the  leads  !  Who  is  the  wretch  that  says  so  ? 
Who  has  seen  my  brother  ?  Who  can  tell  me  where 
he  is?'* 

But  his  cries  were  lost  in  the  uproar,  order  had 
fled.  Bozza  received  the  prize,  and  went  his  way, 
carried  in  triumph  by  the  school  of  the  Bianchini, 
to  which  was  added  a  train  of  malcontents  who 
had  been  refused  admission  into  the  Company  of 
the  Lizard.  A  thousand  vulgar  jests,  a  thousand 
blood-thirsty  threats  burst  forth  from  that  bois- 
terous crowd.  The  terrified  ladies  clung  to  the 
scaffoldings  to  let  the  rabble  pass.  The  Companions 
of  the  Lizard  would  have  drawn  their  swords  and 
fallen  upon  them.  The  officers  and  halberdiers  had 
great  trouble  to  restrain  them.  The  crowd  flocked 
in  sympathy  about  the  beautiful  Valerio,  in  whom 
all  the  world,  and  we  may  well  say  all  the  women, 
were  intensely  interested.  Little  Marie  cried,  and 
angrily  threw  her  crown  under  the  horses'  feet.  In 
this  riotous  disorder  Valerio,  insensible  to  his  defeat, 
and  tortured  with  misgivings  regarding  his  brother, 
ran  this  way  and  that,  with  bewildered  looks,  asking 
for  his  brother  of  every  one  he  met. 


146 


XIV. 

"\  17  HAT  are  you  dreaming  about,  master  ? "  said 
^  '  Ceccato,  joining  him  in  the  midst  of  the 
crowd,  and  seizing  him  by  the  arm.  "  How  is  it 
that  you  allow  yourself  to  be  so  much  disturbed 
by  a  cowardly,  insolent  word  ?  Don't  you  see  that 
Bianchini  sprung  this  wicked  trick  upon  you  to 
make  you  miss  the  ring  ?  He  ought  to  be  punished. 
But  if  you  abandon  your  companions,  if  you  sadden 
the  fete  by  your  absence,  the  Bianchini  will  triumph. 
It  is  easy  to  understand  that  they  did  it  all  in  order 
to  be  avenged  for  their  expulsion.  Come,  Master, 
lead  back  the  little  queen,  and  take  a  turn  on  the 
quays  with  the  music.  The  Company  cannot  march 
without  their  head.  At  vespers  we  will  look  for 
Messer  Francesco." 

"  But  where  can  he  be  ? "  said  Valerio,  clasping 
his  hands.     "Who    knows  what  they  may  have 
invented  in  order  to  throw  him  into  prison?" 
"  In  prison  ?    It  is  impossible.  Master  I    By  what 
147 


THE  MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

right  and  under  what  pretext?  Can  a  man  be 
thrown  into  prison  on  the  first  accusation?" 

"  Nevertheless,  he  is  not  here.  It  must  be  some 
very  serious  cause  that  detains  him.  He  knows  that 
I  cannot  be  happy  at  this  feast  without  him,  and, 
although  he  does  not  like  fetes,  he  owes  me  this 
mark  of  appreciation,  this  reward  for  my  work.  It 
must  be  that  our  enemies  have  lured  him  into  some 
hiding  place,  assassinated  him  perhaps !  Vincent 
Bianchini  is  capable  of  everything." 

"  Master,  you  are  crazy ;  for  the  love  of  Heaven, 
come  back  to  us !  See,  our  discouraged  phalanx  is 
dispersing,  and,  if  we  do  not  redeem  ourselves  in 
the  regatta  this  evening,  the  Bianchini  will  make 
such  a  talk  about  it  that  all  Venice  will  be  asking 
to-morrow,  *  How  about  that  grand  fiasco  of  the 
Company  of  the  Lizard  ? '  " 

Valerio  allowed  himself  to  be  reassured  a  little  by 
the  thought  that  perhaps  Francesco  had  been  to  see 
his  father,  and  had  been  detained  by  him.  The 
oddity  and  severity  of  old  Zuccato  justified  this 
supposition  up  to  a  certain  point,  and  the  look  of 
displeasure  he  had  given  Valerio  made  him  think 
that  he  had  come  to  censure  him.  He  tried,  there- 
fore, to  join  his  father  in  the  crowd,  prepared  to 
endure  his  bitter  jests,  of  which,  in  spite  of  his 
148 


THE  MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

tender  feeling  for  his  son,  the  old  man  was  very 
prodigal;  but  he  could  not  find  him.  Moreover, 
surrounded  by  his  disconcerted  companions,  he  was 
forced,  if  he  would  not  have  them  entirely  disband 
and  renounce  their  festival  day,  to  march  at  their 
head  on  the  grand  border  of  the  Canal  Saint  George, 
which  is  to-day  the  Quay  of  the  Great  Slaves.^ 

The  lively  sound  of  the  instruments,  the  gayety, 
a  trifle  proud  and  spiteful,  of  little  Marietta,  whom 
four  companions  carried  in  a  sort  of  palanquin 
elegantly  decorated  with  flowers,  and  with  bands 
and  arabesques  designed  by  Valerio,  the  admiration 
of  all  the  people  in  the  lagunes  and  all  the  sailors  of 
the  port  assembled  on  the  bank  and  upon  the  float- 
ing piers,  the  noise  and  commotion  served,  in  a 
measure,  to  reanimate  Valerio.  He  renewed  the 
hope  of  finding  his  brother  during  vespers,  for 
which  the  first  bell  had  sounded,  calling  for  a  pause 
in  the  festivities,  when  the  sheath  of  a  poniard  fell 
from  the  roof  of  the  ducal  palace  to  his  feet. 
Struck  with  a  sudden  conviction,  he  seized  it,  and 
drew  from  it  a  note  written  with  a  stub  of  char- 
coal, which  by  good  fortune  Francesco  had  found 
in  his  pocket. 

"Companions  who  pass  the  day  in  joy  to  the 

1  Riva  degli  Schiavoni, 
149 


THE  MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

sound  of  trumpets,  tell  Valerio  Zuccato  that  his 
brother  is  under  the  leads,  and  expects  him."  The 
note  contained  nothing  more.  Hearing  the  music 
approach,  and  fearing  to  let  it  pass,  Francesco,  who 
could  see  nothing,  but  who  knew  Valerio's  favorite 
march  played  by  the  hautboys,  had  not  taken  time 
to  finish  his  thought,  but  had  thrown  his  warning 
through  a  little  slit  in  the  top  of  the  walled  windows, 
which,  according  to  masonry,  are  justly  called  jour 
de  souffrance. 

Valerio  uttered  a  frantic  cry,  and  Francesco,  in 
spite  of  the  din  of  the  instruments  and  the  noise  of 
the  crowd,  heard  him  in  a  voice  of  thunder  pro- 
nounce these  words:  — 

"  My  brother  under  the  leads !  Woe,  woe  to 
those  who  have  put  him  there ! " 

Valerio  stopped  short  with  such  an  energetic 
movement  that  a  whole  army  could  not  have 
moved  him.  The  entire  company  halted  sponta- 
neously. The  fatal  news  spread  instantly  through 
all  the  ranks,  and  they  dispersed,  some  to  follow 
Valerio,  who  darted  like  lightning  under  the  arcades 
of  the  palace,  others  to  find  the  Bianchini  and  force 
them  to  reveal  the  meaning  of  their  behavior. 

Valerio  was  running  along,  carried  away  by  anger 
and  grief,  without  knowing  whither  he  was  going. 
150 


THE  MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

But,  obedient  to  I  know  not  what  instinct,  he 
entered  the  court  of  the  ducal  palace.  At  this 
moment  the  Doge  was  ascending  the  Giants'  Stair- 
case with  the  Duke  of  Anjou,  the  Procurators,  and 
some  of  the  Senators.  Valerio  dashed  boldly  into 
the  midst  of  all  these  magnificent  lords,  and,  forcing 
his  way,  threw  himself  at  the  feet  of  the  Doge,  and 
seized  his  ermine  mantle. 

"What  is  the  matter,  my  child?"  said  Mocenigo, 
turning  towards  him  kindly.  "  Whence  comes  it  that 
your  beautiful  face  wears  a  look  of  despair  ?  Have 
you  been  subjected  to  injustice  ?    Can  I  repair  it  ? "' 

"Your  Highness,"  cried  Valerio,  pressing  to  his 
lips  the  hem  of  the  ducal  mantle,  "  yes,  I  am  sub- 
jected to  a  great  injustice,  and  my  heart  is  broken 
with  grief.  My  elder  brother,  Francesco  Zuccato, 
the  best  mosaic  artist  in  all  Italy,  the  bravest  cham- 
pion and  most  loyal  citizen  of  the  Republic,  has 
been  thrown  into  prison,  without  your  order, 
without  your  permission,  and  I  come  to  ask  you 
for  justice." 

"  In  prison !  Francesco  Zuccato  !  "  exclaimed  the 
Doge.  "  Who  could  have  inflicted  so  severe  a  pun- 
ishment on  so  noble  a  young  man  and  so  worthy 
an  artist?  If  he  has  committed  a  fault  deserving 
punishment,  why  was  I  not  informed  of  it  ?  Who 
151 


THE  MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

gave  the  order  ?  Which  of  you,  gentlemen,  will  give 
me  an  account  of  this  ? " 

No  one  answered.    Valerio  spoke  again. 

"  Your  Highness,"  said  he,  "  the  Procurators  who 
had  charge  of  the  works  in  the  basilica  ought  to 
know.  Monsignore  Melchior,  the  Cassiere,  certainly 
ought  to  know." 

"I  will  find  out,  Valerio,"  answered  the  Doge. 
"  Take  heart,  justice  shall  be  done.    Let  us  pass." 

"  Your  Highness,  strike  me  with  the  hilt  of  your 
sword  if  my  boldness  offends  you,"  said  Valerio, 
without  relinquishing  the  mantle  of  the  Doge,  "  but 
listen  to  the  plea  of  the  most  faithful  of  your  citi- 
zens. Francesco  Zuccato  could  not  commit  a  fault. 
He  is  a  man  who  never  had  so  much  as  an  evil 
thought.  To  put  him.  in  prison  is  to  do  him  an 
injury  for  which  he  will  never  be  consoled,  and  of 
which  the  whole  city  will  be  informed  in  an  hour, 
if  you  do  not  set  him  free,  if  you  do  not  allow  him 
to  show  himself  with  his  companions  to  all  the 
public,  who  are  surprised  not  to  have  seen  him 
appear  at  their  head.  Yet  again,  your  Highness, 
hear  me.  Francesco  is  as  frail  in  body  as  the  reed 
in  the  lagune.  Let  him  pass  but  one  day  more  in 
prison,  and  he  might  as  well  never  come  out;  and 
you  will  have  lost  the  best  artist  and  best  citizen  of 
152 


^THE  MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

the  Republic;  and  misfortune  will  come  of  it,  for 
I  swear  —  " 

"Silence,  child,"  interrupted  the  Doge,  gravely. 
"  Do  not  make  foolish  threats.  I  cannot  set  a  pris- 
oner free  without  the  consent  of  the  Senate,  and 
the  Senate  will  not  give  it  without  inquiring  for 
what  he  was  committed;  for  some  grave  suspi- 
cion must  rest  on  a  man's  head  if  they  put  him 
in  prison.  I  have  promised  you  justice;  do  not 
doubt  the  Father  of  the  Republic,  but  prove  your- 
self worthy  of  his  protection  by  wise  and  prudent 
behavior.  All  that  I  can  do  to  lessen  your  anxiety 
and  your  brother's  trouble  is  to  allow  you  to  go  to 
him,  that  you  may  take  care  of  him  if  his  health 
requires  it." 

"I  am  grateful,  your  Highness.  May  you  be 
blessed  for  this  permission,"  said  Valerio,  bowing 
his  head  and  relinquishing  the  mantle  of  the  Doge, 
who  went  on  his  way. 

The  Duke  of  Anjou  paused  before  Valerio,  and 
said  to  him  with  a  gracious  smile:  "Young  man, 
take  courage.  I  promise  to  remind  the  Doge  that  he 
has  pledged  himself  to  grant  you  speedy  redress, 
and  if  your  brother  resembles  you,  I  do  not  doubt 
he  is  a  gallant  knight  and  a  loyal  subject.  I  wish 
you  to  understand  that,  in  spite  of  your  failure, 
153 


THE  MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

I  consider  you  the  hero  of  the  game,  and  I  am 
so  much  interested  in  your  appearance  and  your 
marked  ability  that  I  would  like  to  take  you  to  the 
court  of  France  when  the  noble  Republic  of  Venice 
will  no  longer  require  your  services." 

Speaking  thus,  he  took  off  his  rich  golden  chain 
and  placed  it  on  Valerio's  neck,  requesting  him  to 
keep  it  in  remembrance  of  him. 


IW 


XV. 

VALERIO  was  conducted  by  two  halberdiers  to 
his  brother's  cell. 

"  And  you  too !  "  cried  Francesco.  "  The  wretches 
have  got  the  better  of  you  too,  my  poor  child? 
What  good  has  it  done  you  to  be  without  ambition 
and  without  vanity  ?  Holy  modesty,  they  have  not 
respected  thee  any  more !  " 

"  I  am  not  a  prisoner  by  the  will  of  the  wicked," 
answered  Valerio,  clasping  him  in  his  arms,  "  but  by 
my  own  wish.  I  shall  never  leave  you.  I  come  to 
share  your  straw  bed  and  your  black  bread.  But 
tell  me,  who  brought  you  here,  and  on  what 
accusation?"  ■ 

"  I  don't  know,"  answered  Francesco,  "  but  I  am 
not  surprised.    Are  we  not  in  Venice  ? " 

Valerio  tried  to  console  his  brother,  and  to 
assure  him  that  he  could  not  have  been  arrested  but 
through  some  mistake,  and  that  he  would  be  set  at 
liberty  at  the  earliest  opportunity.  But  Francesco 
answered  him  with  deep  despondency:  — 

155 


THE  MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

"  It  is  too  late  now.  They  have  done  me  all  the 
evil  they  could  do  me.  They  have  done  me  an 
injury  which  nothing  can  wipe  out.  What  does  it 
matter  to  me  henceforth  whether  I  remain  a  year  or 
a  day  in  this  frightful  prison^*  Do  you  think  that  I 
have  felt  the  heat,  do  you  think  that  I  have  felt 
bodily  pain  during  this  endless  day  ?  No,  but  I 
have  suffered  all  the  agony  of  the  soul.  I  to  be 
ranked  with  knaves  and  impostors  !  I,  who,  after 
so  many  long  vigils  and  such  conscientious  work, 
so  much  zeal  and  devotion  to  the  glory  of  my 
country,  who  to-day  should  have  been  crowned  and 
carried  in  triumph  by  my  school  amid  the  applause 
of  a  grateful  people,  see  me  here  in  prison,  as  Vin- 
cent Bianchini  was  for  assassination  and  for  passing 
false  money.  This  is  the  fruit  of  my  labors,  the 
recompense  of  my  courage !  Be  a  conscientious 
artist;  apply  yourself  with  rigorous  care  and  ex- 
hausting studies  for  the  rest  of  your  suffering  and 
uncertain  life;  renounce  the  attractions  of  love, 
the  intoxications  of  pleasure,  the  sweet  repose  of 
the  spring  nights ;  and,  on  the  day  when  you  think 
you  have  deserved  a  crown,  they  will  load  you  with 
irons,  they  will  cover  you  with  shame;  and  the 
blind  and  fickle  public,  which  finds  it  so  hard  to 
welcome  the  truth,  always  receives  calumny  with 

156 


THE  MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

open  arms !  Be  sure  of  it,  Valerio,  this  very  mo- 
ment these  people  who  have  seen  me  since  the  day 
of  my  birth  growing  up  and  living  in  the  love  of 
my  work,  hating  injustice  and  respecting  the  laws, 
these  people  who  judge  human  consciences  only  by 
the  reverses  or  successes  of  fortune,  —  be  sure  of  it, 
they  accuse  me  already,  although  it  is  only  ten  min- 
utes since  they  knew  of  my  being  in  prison.  That 
1  am  unfortunate  is  enough  to  make  them  believe 
that  I  am  culpable.  They  no  longer  make  any 
distinction  between  my  name  and  that  of  Vincent 
Bianchini.  Both  of  us  have  been  accused,  both  of- 
us  have  known  the  disgrace  of  imprisonment.  I 
may  be  set  free ;  perhaps  I  am  innocent.  But  did 
they  never  set  fr^e  one  who  was  guilty?  Who 
knows  if,  like  him,  I  shall  not  be  banished  ?  Does 
not  Venice  banish  all  whom  she  distrusts  ?  and  does 
she  not  distrust  all  who  are  denounced  to  her  ? " 

Valerio  realized  that  his  brother's  suffering  was 
only  too  well  founded,  and  that  in  trying  to  recon- 
cile him  to  his  situation  he  only  made  him  feel  more 
keenly  the  severity  and  danger  of  it.  Towards  even- 
ing he  was  preparing  to  go  out  to  procure  some 
food  for  him  and  a  cloak ;  but  when  he  called  the 
jailer,  through  the  sHde  in  the  door,  he  was  informed 
that  orders  had  been  received  not  to  allow  him  to 
157 


THE  MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

go  out  again,  and  the  jailer  even  showed  him  a 
paper,  bearing  the  seal  of  the  Inquisitors  of  the 
State,  which  ordered  the  arrest  of  the  two  brothers 
Zuccati,  without  expressing  upon  what  ground  of 
provocation.  Francesco  uttered  a  cry  of  anguish 
upon  hearing  of  this  arrest. 

"They  will  kill  me,"  said  he.  "The  butchers! 
could  they  not  make  an  end  of  me  without  torturing 
me  with  the  sight  of  my  brother's  suffering  ?'* 

'*Do  not  pity  me,"  answered  Valerio.  "They 
might  not  have  allowed  me  to  spend  the  days  and 
nights  with  you.  Now  I  thank  them,  and  I  shall 
never  leave  you." 

Many  days  and  many  nights  passed  by,  yet  the 
Zuccati  brothers  received  no  light  as  to  their  posi- 
tion, no  relief  from  their  sadness  and  anxiety.  The 
heat  was  oppressive;  the  plague  had  broken  out 
in  Venice,  and  the  air  of  the  prison  was  infec- 
tious. Francesco,  lying  on  his  bed  of  rough  and 
dusty  straw,  no  longer  seemed  to  realize  his  mis- 
fortune ;  from  time  to  time  he  reached  out  his  arm 
to  convey  to  his  lips  some  drops  of  brackish  water 
in  a  pewter  mug.  Exhausted  by  continual  sweats, 
he  wiped  his  smarting  face  with  the  linen  rags  which 
Valerio  kept  for  him  with  extreme  care,  and  took 
the  trouble  to  wash  each  day,  setting  aside  for  this 
158 


THE  MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

purpose  half  his  miserable  allowance  of  water.  It 
was  almost  the  only  service  he  could  render  his 
unfortunate  brother.  Everything  was  wanting.  He 
had  used  all  his  rich  clothing  to  make,  with  the  aid 
of  some  straw,  a  kind  of  pillow  and  a  parasol  for 
him.  He  had  kept  for  himself  only  a  few  tatters 
upon  which  there  still  shone  some  remnants  of  gold 
and  of  embroidery.  He  had  tried  in  vain  to  offer 
his  pearls,  his  poniard,  and  his  golden  chain  to  the 
jailers  in  order  to  procure  for  Francesco  some 
relief  from  the  frightful  regimen  of  the  hard  prison 
fare.  The  jailors  of  the  Inquisition  were  not  to' 
be  bribed. 

In  spite  of  the  impossibility  of  helping  his  brother 
in  his  present  situation,  Valerio  remained  constantly 
near  him.  Stronger  than  Francesco,  and  too  much 
absorbed  in  his  suffering  to  feel  his  own,  he  busied 
himself  turning  him  on  his  miserable  bed,  fanning 
him  with  the  great  plume  of  his  cap,  feeling  his 
burning  hands,  and  watching  his  languid  eyes. 
Francesco  no  longer  complained.  He  had  lost  his 
hope.  Whenever  for  a  moment  he  roused  from 
his  lethargy,  he  made  an  effort  to  smile  upon  his 
brother,  spoke  a  few  tender  words  to  him,  and 
immediately  fell  back  into  a  dreadful  stupor. 

One  evening  Valerio  was  seated  as  usual  upon  the 
159 


THE   MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

scorching  brick  floor.  Francesco's  heavy  head  was 
resting  on  his  knee.  The  pitiless  sun  was  setting  in 
a  sea  of  fire,  and  cast  a  sinister  reflection  upon  the 
red  walls,  which  seemed  mercilessly  to  absorb  and 
retain  its  intense  heat.  The  plague  was  spreading 
farther  and  farther.  All  the  exhilarating,  gladsome 
sounds  of  brilliant  Venice  had  given  place  to  the 
silence  of  death,  broken  only  by  the  mournful  toll- 
ing of  the  bell  for  the  dying,  and  by  the  distant 
chant  of  some  pious  monk  passing  along  the  canal, 
conveying  to  the  cemetery  a  boat  filled  with  dead 
bodies.  A  martin  lighted  on  the  chink  in  the  roof 
which  admitted  an  occasional  whiff  of  dry  air  into 
the  lodging  of  the  Zuccati.  This  black  swallow, 
with  his  breast  the  color  of  blood,  his  note  loud 
and  piercing,  and  his  proud,  untamed  aspect,  had  the 
effect  of  a  bad  omen  on  Valerio.  It  seemed  restless ; 
and,  after  having  called,  as  is  its  custom,  to  bring 
back  some  belated  comrade,  it  flew  up  through  the 
air  uttering  a  certain  cry  which  the  Venetians  knew 
well,  and  which  they  never  heard  without  a  kind  of 
terror.  It  is  the  cry  which  calls  these  wandering 
birds  together  when  the  time  has  come  for  them  to 
change  their  hemisphere.  They  go  away  together 
in  numerous  bands.  The  sky  is  obscured  by  them, 
and  the  same  day  sees  them  all  disappear,  even  to 
1 60 


THE  MASTER  MOSAIC- WORKERS. 

the  last  one.  Their  departure  is  the  signal  for  a  ver- 
itable scourge.  The  moielins,  those  imperceptible 
insects,  whose  thin  and  continual  humming  irritates 
even  to  the  point  of  fever,  and  whose  bite  is  unen- 
durable, fill  the  atmosphere,  and,  being  no  longer 
driven  to  the  higher  regions  of  the  air  by  the  hunt- 
ing swallows,  they  swarm  about  the  dwellings,  infest 
them,  and  steal  the  sleep  from  all  Venetians,  whom 
wealth,  with  all  its  resources,  does  not  preserve  from 
their  attacks. 

In  prison,  and  at  a  time  when  the  air,  filled 
with  pestilential  exhalations,  entered  with  venomous 
stings  into  all  the  pores,  the  arrival  of  the  mo^elins, 
soon  to  be  followed  by  that  of  scorpions,  was 
a  death  signal  for  Francesco.  Already  consumed 
with  a  violent  fever,  he  managed  to  enjoy  a  little 
rest  for  a  few  short  hours  in  the  night  when  the  re- 
freshing breeze  reached  him.  But  this  rest  was  to 
be  taken  from  him.  It  was  during  the  night  that 
little  gnats  penetrated  into  all  the  dwellings,  espe- 
cially into  those  where  the  heated  breath  of  man 
attracted  them.  Valerio  listened  anxiously.  He 
heard  a  thousand  piercing  cries,  a  thousand  restless, 
hurried  chatterings,  a  calling  and  answering,  a  flying 
away  and  returning,  a  uniting  again  and  collecting 
on  the  roofs  as  if  to  deliberate,  then  a  darting  away 
i6i 


THE  MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

with  a  piercing  farewell  cry,  like  a  last  malediction 
upon  the  sorrowing  city.  Valerio  placed  himself  in 
the  dormer  window,  where  he  could  see  nothing  but 
the  sky.  He  saw  the  black  specks  moving  in  the 
heavens  at  an  immeasurable  height,  no  longer  de- 
scribing the  great  regular  circles  of  the  chase,  but 
flying  in  a  straight  line  direct  for  the  east.  It  was  the 
martins  already  on  their  way.  Francesco  had  heard 
their  parting  cry ;  he  had  read  on  Valerio's  face  the 
fearful  effect  of  this  discovery.  When  suffering 
overpowers  man,  he  cannot  conceive  of  an  increase 
of  suffermg,  however  imminent  and  unavoidable, 
he  has  not  the  strength  to  add,  even  in  thought, 
future  evil  to  present  evil.  When  this  evil  comes, 
he  is  as  if  crushed  under  an  unforeseen  catastrophe. 
Death  itself,  that  final  thing,  so  fatal,  so  inevitable, 
surprises  almost  all  men  as  if  it  were  an  injustice 
from  Heaven,  a  freak  of  destiny. 

"Counting  from  to-morrow,"  said  Francesco  to 
his  brother  in  a  faint  voice,  "I  shall  sleep  no 
more."  He  pronounced  his  own  death  sentence. 
Valerio  understood  it,  and  let  his  head  fall  upon  his 
breast.  The  scalding  tears,  which  until  then  he  had 
had  the  stoicism  to  repress,  rolled  in  floods  down 
Jiis  pale  and  emaciated  cheeks. 

162 


XVI. 

THE  Inquisition  was  a  power  so  mysterious,  so 
absolute,  there  was  so  much  danger  involved 
in  trying  to  penetrate  its  secrets,  and  this  was  so 
difficult  to  do,  that  three  days  after  Saint  Mark's 
nobody  spoke  any  more  of  the  Zuccati.  The  report 
of  Francesco's  arrest  had  spread  rapidly,  and  this 
report  had  died  away  like  the  wave  which  breaks 
on  the  silent  and  desert  shore.  The  slightest  rock 
would  repulse  and  excite  it ;  but  a  sandy  shore,  for  a 
long  time  smoothed  and  devastated  by  the  storms, 
receives  the  surges  without  resistance,  and  all  their 
force  is  annihilated  for  want  of  provocation :  such 
was  Venice.  The  restless  effervescence,  the  natural 
curiosity  of  her  people,  spent  themselves  like  the 
empty  foam  of  the  waves  on  the  shores  of  the  ducal 
palace,  and  the  dark  waters  which  bathed  its  quays 
bore  at  every  hour  a  stream  of  blood,  the  unknown 
source  of  which  was  hidden  in  the  bowels  of  this 
mysterious  den. 

163 


THE  MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

Moreover,  the  plague  had  come,  filling  all  hearts 
with  alarm  and  discouragement.  All  work  was 
suspended,  all  the  schools  were  dispersed.  Marini 
had  been  attacked  among  the  first,  and  was  strug- 
gling with  a  slow  and  painful  convalesce'  :e.  Cec- 
cato  had  lost  one  of  his  children,  and  was  devoting 
himself  to  his  death-stricken  wife.  The  anger  of 
the  Bianchini  had  been  stifled  momentarily  by  the 
fear  of  death.    Bozza  had  disappeared. 

Old  Sebastian  Zuccato  had  retired  to  the  country 
on  the  Feast  of  Saint  Mark,  at  the  breaking  up  of 
the  games,  in  a  bad  humor  at  what  he  called  the 
extravagance  and  vainglory  of  his  sons.  He  was 
wholly  ignorant  of  their  misfortune,  and  fretted  at 
not  seeing  them,  as  usual,  pacifying  his  anger  by 
their  respectful  attentions. 

The  plague  having  lost  a  little  of  its  maHgnity, 
old  Zuccato  was  afraid  at  last  that  his  sons  might 
have  succumbed  to  it.  He  came  to  Venice,  deter- 
mined to  be  severe  with  them,  but  full  of  anxiety ; 
and  the  more  irritated  he  was  against  them,  the  more 
he  felt  how  impossible  it  was  not  to  love  them.  It 
must  not  be  thought  that,  after  the  scene  at  the 
basilica,  Sebastian  was  reconciled  to  mosaic  work. 
He  was  always  prejudiced  against  it,  and  against 
those  who  gave  themselves  to  it.  If  he  had,  in  spite 
164 


THE  MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

of  himself,  yielded  to  the  power  which  great  things 
exercise  over  artists'  souls,  if  he  did  press  his  chil- 
dren to  his  heart  and  shower  upon  them  tears  of 
tenderness,  he  had  not,  for  all  that,  abandoned  any 
of  his  preconceived  ideas  regarding  the  superiority 
of  certain  branches  of  art.  Even  had  he  wished  it, 
he  was  not  the  master  to  give  up  at  the  hour  of 
death  the  ideas  he  had  obstinately  cherished  all  his 
life.  The  only  thing  which  consoled  him  was  the 
hope  that  Francesco  would  some  day  renounce  this 
vile  metal  work,  and  return  to  his  easel.  With  the 
intention  of  exhorting  him  anew,  he  went  to  the 
basilica,  thinking  to  find  him  busy  on  some  other 
cupola.  But  he  found  the  basilica  draped  in  black, 
and  heard  mournful  chants  resounding  through  the 
gloomy  arches.  The  wax  tapers,  struggling  with 
the  last  rays  of  day,  diffused  a  dull  red  glimmer, 
more  appalling  than  the  darkness.  The  last  honors 
were  being  paid  to  two  Senators  who  had  died  of 
the  plague.  Their  catafalques  were  under  the  por- 
tico. All  was  done  hastily,  and  it  was  easy  to  see 
that  the  priests  fulfilled  their  sacred  duties  with  fear 
and  precipitation.  The  old  Zuccato  trembled  from 
head  to  foot  on  seeing  these  two  caskets.  He  could 
only  reassure  himself  by  learning  the  names  of  these 
two  dead  magistrates.  Then  he  left  the  church,  and 
i6s 


THE  MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

ran  to  Valerie's  studio  in  San  Filippo.  But  there  he 
was  told  that  neither  Francesco  nor  Valerio  had  been 
seen  since  Saint  Mark's  Day ;  and  he  sought  with  no 
better  success  in  all  the  places  where  they  were  in 
the  habit  of  going.  Finally,  when  beside  himself 
with  anxiety,  he  succeeded  in  finding  poor  Ceccato, 
and  inferred  from  his  gloomy  forebodings  that  his 
sons  must  be  dead  in  prison  either  through  grief  or 
sickness.  He  remained  for  some  moments  immova- 
ble, absorbed,  and  pale  as  death.  At  last  he  departed, 
and,  without  a  word  to  Ceccato  or  his  disconsolate 
family,  he  went  to  the  abode  of  the  Procurator- 
Cassiere.  He  was  far  from  accusing  this  magistrate 
of  the  unjust  arrest  of  his  sons.  Naturally  patient, 
he  would  have  thought  himself  wanting  in  respect 
and  love  for  the  laws  in  suspecting  a  magistrate 
guilty  of  error  or  prejudice.  Dissatisfied  with  his 
sons,  and  ready  to  accuse  them  of  idleness  or  inso- 
lence according  to  the  decision  of  the  Procurator, 
at  least  he  wished  to  know  at  any  cost  what  had 
become  of  them.  So  he  humbly  approached  the 
great  Cassiere^  who,  doubtless  to  preserve  himself 
from  the  plague,  was  more  than  ever  occupied  with 
his  own  well-being.  He  found  him  surrounded  by 
flagons  and  aromatics  of  all  kinds  to  purify  the  air 
which  he  breathed.  Nevertheless,  Sebastian's  cere- 
i66 


THE  MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

monious  salutations  made  him  a  little  more  tractable 
than  he  was  ordinarily. 

"  That  'II  do,  that  '11  do,"  said  he,  making  a  sign 
to  Sebastian  to  keep  at  a  distance,  and  enveloping 
his  nose  in  a  large  handkerchief  saturated  with 
essence  of  juniper.  "  Far  enough,  my  man.  Don't 
come  so  near,  and  hold  your  breath  a  little.  By  the 
cap !  in  these  cursed  times  we  do  not  know  to 
whom  we  are  speaking.  Are  n't  you  sick  ?  Come, 
hurry  up  !    What  is  the  matter  ? " 

"  Your  respected  Lordship,"  answered  the  old  man, 
slightly  mortified  at  this  unceremonious  welcome, 
"  sees  before  you  the  syndic  of  painters,  Sebastian 
Zuccato,  your  very  humble  servant,  and  the  father 
of—" 

"Ah!  so,"  replied  Melchior,  without  disturbing 
himself  save  by  a  feint  of  touching  languidly  his 
black  silk  cap,  which  fitted  close  to  his  flat  head.  "  I 
did  not  remember  you,  Messer  Zuccato.  You  are 
an  honest  man,  but  your  sons  are  two  cunning 
knaves." 

"  Your  Excellency,  the  word  is  a  little  severe.  I 
cannot  deny  that  my  sons  may  be  bad  enough  sub- 
jects, very  dissipated,  very  obstinate  in  their  ideas, 
and  devoted  to  a  very  foolish  and  very  contemptible 
calling.  I  know  they  have  incurred  the  displeasure 
167 


THE  MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

of  our  lords,  the  magistrates,  and  yours  in  par- 
ticular. I  am  sure  they  must  have  committed 
some  grave  fault,  since  your  kindness  to  them  has 
changed  to  severity.  I  do  not  come  to  justify  them, 
but  to  appease  your  anger,  and  to  beg  that  your 
mercy  will  take  into  consideration  the  poisonous 
air,  the  severity  of  the  season,  and  the  delicate 
health  of  my  eldest  son,  which  has  been  sufficiently 
endangered  by  prison  fare  for  him  to  remember 
this  punishment  and  not  expose  himself  to  it 
again.'' 

"Your  son  is  indeed  sick, they  tell  me,"  replied 
the  Procurator.  "But  who  is  not  sick  during  this 
malignant  time  ?  I  am  suif ering  a  great  deal  myself, 
and  without  the  assiduous  care  of  my  physician  I 
should  have  died,  I  do  not  doubt.  But  one  must 
take  precautions,  great  precautions.  By  the  ducal 
cap!  I  advise  you  also,  Master  Sebastian,  to  take 
precautions." 

''Your  Excellency  says  that  my  son  Francesco 
is  sick.?"  said  Sebastian,  affrighted. 

"  Oh,  that  need  not  disturb  yoii :  one  is  no  worse 
off  in  prison  than  anywhere  else.  We  know  by 
exact  statistics  that  the  death  rate  among  prisoners 
under  the  leads  is  no  greater  than  in  other  prisons 
of  the  RepubHc." 

i68 


THE  MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

"  Under  the  leads,i  your  Excellency !  "  cried  old 
Zuccato.  "  Your  Lordship  said  under  the  leads ! 
Are  my  sons  under  the  leads?" 

"  By  the  cap !  they  are,  and  they  deserve  no  less 
for  their  extortions  and  sponging." 

"My  God!  Monsignore,  you  wish  to  frighten 
me,"  said  Zuccato  in  a  loud  voice,  and  recoiling  a 
step.    "  My  children  are  not  under  the  leads !  " 

"They  are,  I  tell  you,"  answered  the  Procurator; 
"  and  I  cannot  take  them  out  until  their  process  is 
prepared  and  judged.  As  soon  as  the  plague  will 
permit  us  to  attend  to  their  case,  we  shall  do  so;, 
but,  by  the  ducal  cap!  I  am  much  afraid  their 
coming  out  will  be  only  for  the  worse,  for  they  are 
guilty,  and  perpetual  banishment  is  the  penalty  for 
those  who  steal  the  public  funds." 

"  By  the  body  of  the  devil !  Messer,"  cried  the  old 
man,  drawing  near  to  the  Procurator, "  whoever  says 
that  lies  in  his  throat,  and  those  who  have  put  my 
sons  under  the  leads  will  repent  of  it  while  I  can 
raise  a  fmger." 

"Do  not  come  near  me,"  cried  Melchior  in  his 
turn,  rising  quickly  and  pushing  back  his  arm-chair. 
"Do  not  let  me  feel  your  breath  on  my  face.    If 

1  The  prison  in  the  upper  story  of  the  ducal  palace, 
which  has  a  leaden  roof. 

169 


THE  MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

of  our  lords,  the  magistrates,  and  yours  in  par- 
ticular. I  am  sure  they  must  have  committed 
some  grave  fault,  since  your  kindness  to  them  has 
changed  to  severity.  I  do  not  come  to  justify  them, 
but  to  appease  your  anger,  and  to  beg  that  your 
mercy  will  take  into  consideration  the  poisonous 
air,  the  severity  of  the  season,  and  the  delicate 
health  of  my  eldest  son,  which  has  been  sufficiently 
endangered  by  prison  fare  for  him  to  remember 
this  punishment  and  not  expose  himself  to  it 
again." 

"Your  son  is  indeed  sick, they  tell  me,"  replied 
the  Procurator.  "But  who  is  not  sick  during  this 
malignant  time  ?  I  am  suflFering  a  great  deal  myself, 
and  without  the  assiduous  care  of  my  physician  I 
should  have  died,  I  do  not  doubt.  But  one  must 
take  precautions,  great  precautions.  By  the  ducal 
cap!  I  advise  you  also,  Master  Sebastian,  to  take 
precautions." 

"Your  Excellency  says  that  my  son  Francesco 
is  sick?"  said  Sebastian,  affrighted. 

"  Oh,  that  need  not  disturb  yoil :  one  is  no  worse 
off  in  prison  than  anywhere  else.  We  know  by 
exact  statistics  that  the  death  rate  among  prisoners 
under  the  leads  is  no  greater  than  in  other  prisons 
of  the  Republic." 

i68 


THE  MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

"  Under  the  leads,i  your  Excellency ! "  cried  old 
Zuccato.  "  Your  Lordship  said  under  the  leads ! 
Are  my  sons  under  the  leads?" 

"  By  the  cap !  they  are,  and  they  deserve  no  less 
for  their  extortions  and  sponging." 

"My  God!  Monsignore,  you  wish  to  frighten 
me,"  said  Zuccato  in  a  loud  voice,  and  recoiling  a 
step.    "  My  children  are  not  under  the  leads !  " 

"They  are,  I  tell  you,"  answered  the  Procurator; 
"  and  I  cannot  take  them  out  until  their  process  is 
prepared  and  judged.  As  soon  as  the  plague  will 
permit  us  to  attend  to  their  case,  we  shall  do  so ;. 
but,  by  the  ducal  cap!  I  am  much  afraid  their 
coming  out  will  be  only  for  the  worse,  for  they  are 
guilty,  and  perpetual  banishment  is  the  penalty  for 
those  who  steal  the  public  funds." 

"  By  the  body  of  the  devil !  Messer,"  cried  the  old 
man,  drawing  near  to  the  Procurator, "  whoever  says 
that  lies  in  his  throat,  and  those  who  have  put  my 
sons  under  the  leads  will  repent  of  it  while  I  can 
raise  a  finger." 

"Do  not  come  near  me,"  cried  Melchior  in  his 
turn,  rising  quickly  and  pushing  back  his  arm-chair. 
"Do  not  let  me  feel  your  breath  on  my  face.    If 

1  The  prison  in  the  upper  story  of  the  ducal  palace, 
which  has  a  leaden  roof. 

169 


THE  MASTER   MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

you  've  got  the  plague,  keep  it,  and  go  to  the 
devil  with  your  rascally  sons.  I  tell  you  they  will 
be  hanged  if  you  aggravate  their  case  by  making  a 
noise.  All  the  Zuccati  are  villanous  knaves.  Upon 
my  word,  you  poison  the  air,  Messer.    Get  out !  " 

While  uttering  these  words,  Melchior  continually 
drew  back,  and  the  old  Zuccato,  motionless  in  his 
place,  gave  him  a  look  that  froze  him  with  terror. 

''  If  I  had  the  plague,"  said  he  at  last,  in  a  sepul- 
chral voice,  "  I  should  like  to  fold  in  my  arms  all 
those  who  dare  to  say  that  the  Zuccati  are  robbers. 
I  hope  this  idea  has  never  come  to  any  one,  and  that 
the  magistrate  to  whom  I  have  the  honor  of  speak- 
ing may  be  seized  with  fever  and  delirium  this  very 
moment.  Yes,  yes,  Monsignore,  it  is  the  pestilence 
speaking  through  you  when  you  say  that  the  Zuccati 
have  kept  the  public  money.  Know  that  the  Zuc- 
cati come  of  noble  race,  and  that  the  blood  which 
courses  through  their  veins  is  purer  than  that  of  the 
ducal  families.  Know  that  Francesco  and  Valerio 
are  two  men  whom  they  may  indeed  put  to  death 
by  torture,  but  whom  they  cannot  dishonor.  Your 
Lordship  will  do  well  to  call  your  physician,  for  a 
mortal  venom  is  running  through  your  veins." 

Finishing  these  terrible  words,  Sebastian  darted 
out  of  the  Procuraties,  and  ran  to  the  ducal  palace. 
170 


THE  MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

Melchior  rang  his  bell  in  great  agitation,  called  for 
his  doctor,  and  made  him  bleed,  rub,  and  physic  him 
all  night,  believing  that  old  Zuccato  had  given  him 
the  plague  by  witchcraft.  He  fainted  away  many 
times,  and  nearly  died  with  fear. 


171 


XVII. 

SEBASTIAN  ZUCCATO  hastened  to  throw  himself 
at  the  feet  of  the  Doge,  and  demanded  justice 
with  all  the  eloquence  of  paternal  love  and  out- 
raged honor.  Mocenigo  listened  to  him  kindly, 
and  showed  him  marks  of  the  highest  esteem.  He 
regretted  much  the  prolonged  torture  to  which  his 
sons  had  been  subjected,  and  took  it  upon  himself 
to  have  them  transferred  to  less  grewsome  quarters. 
He  even  allowed  the  old  Sebastian  to  see  them  every 
day,  and  to  administer  to  them  such  care  as  his  ten- 
derness suggested.  But  he  did  not  conceal  from  him 
that  the  most  serious  charges  had  been  preferred 
against  them,  and  that  their  case  would  be  a  long 
and  weighty  affair. 

However,  thanks  to  his  persistent  importunity, 
old  Zuccato,  with  the  influence  of  Titian,  Tintoretto, 
and  many  other  great  masters,  all  friends  of  the 
Zuccati,  thanks  also  to  the  kind  protection  of  the 
Doge,  the  Council  of  Ten,  whose  functions  had  been 
suspended  for  several  months  owing  to  the  epi- 
172 


THE  MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

demic,  assembled  at  last;  and  the  first  question 
this  august  tribunal  attacked  was  the  case  against 
the  Zuccati,  accused ;  — - 

"  I .  Of  having  stolen  their  salary,  because  their 
work  was  hastily  done  and  without  solidity ;  for  in- 
stance, by  working  out  of  season  {fiwr  di  stagione), 
that  is  to  say,  in  cold  weather,  when  work  in  mastic 
does  not  hold,  in  order  to  make  up  for  the  time 
they  had  lost  during  the  fine  season  in  promenades, 
dissipations,  and  debaucheries  of  all  kinds ; 

"  2.  Of  having  made  figures  badly  drawn  and  gro- 
tesquely colored,  the  result  of  obstinately  working 
the  greater  part  of  the  night  to  make  up  for  their 
previous  laziness  (ingordigia)  j 

"3.  Of  having  done  this  detestable  work  through 
their  entire  ignorance  of  their  business,  an  ignorance 
which  rendered  Valerio  Zuccato  incapable  of  accom- 
plishing anything  but  senseless  articles  for  the  toilets 
of  women  and  young  people  (culfle.fraslagli,  vesture, 
etc.),  which  childish  performance  occupied  him  in- 
cessantly, and  afforded  him  a  lucrative  profession  at 
San  Filippo,  while  the  public  paid  him  handsomely 
for  work  which  he  did  not  and  could  not  do; 

"4.  Of  having,  by  contemptible  trickery,  used  in 
many  places  painted  pieces  of  wood  and  pasteboard 
instead  of  enamel  and  stone  {i  pe^^i)  in  order  to 
^7Z 


THE  MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

show  a  degree  of  detail  of  which  the  mosaic  mate- 
rials are  not  susceptible,  thereby  acquiring  for  them- 
selves the  credit  of  great  artistic  merit  during  their 
lives,  only  to  leave  behind  them  works  which  would 
last  no  longer.'* 

The  documents  relating  to  this  strange  case  are 
still  to  be  found  in  the  archives  of  the  ducal  palace; 
and  Signor  Quadri  has  given  a  faithful  account  of 
it,  which  can  be  read  in  an  article  entitled  "Dei 
Musaici,"  at  the  end  of  his  excellent  work  on 
Venetian  painting. 

The  plaintiffs  were  the  Procurator-Cassiere  Mel- 
chior,  Bartolommeo  Bozza,  the  three  Bianchini,  Jean 
Viscentin,  and  several  other  pupils  of  their  school, 
and  finally  Claude  de  Corr^ge,  organist  of  St. 
Mark's,  who  hated  the  noise  of  the  workmen,  and 
who  would  have  testified  equally  in  favor  of  the 
Zuccati  and  against  the  Bianchini,  hoping  that, 
wearied  with  these  quarrels  and  useless  expenses, 
the  government  would  give  up  these  extravagant 
repairs,  the  principal  inconvenience  of  which,  in  the 
eyes  of  the  organist,  was  the  annoyance  this  contin- 
ual racket  occasioned  to  his  school  of  plain  chant 
held  in  the  organ  loft. 

The  witnesses  in  favor  of  the  Zuccati  were  Titian 
and  his  son  Orazio,  Tintoretto,  Paolo  Veronese, 
174 


THE   MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

Marini,  Ceccato,  and  the  good  priest  Alberto  Zio. 
All  of  them  appeared  before  the  Council  of  Ten,  and 
vouched  for  the  great  talent,  beautiful  work,  proper 
behavior,  close  application,  and  perfect  honesty  of 
the  Zuccati  brothers  and  all  their  school. 

In  their  turn  the  Zuccati  brothers  were  brought 
before  the  judges.  Valerio  supported  his  dear 
brother  in  his  arms,  scarcely  recovered  from  his 
long  and  serious  illness,  faint,  crushed,  apparently 
indifferent  to  the  issue  of  the  trial  which  he  no 
longer  had  the  strength  to  bear.  Valerio  was  pale 
and  thin.  He  had  been  provided  with  clothing;  but 
his  long  beard,  his  hair  carelessly  combed,  his  halting 
step,  and  a  certain  convulsive  tremblmg,  testified  to 
his  suffering  and  his  grief.  Indifferent  to  his  own 
wrongs,  but  indignant  at  the  injustice  done  his 
brother,  life,  at  last,  had  become  a  serious  matter  to 
him.  Anger  and  revenge  flashed  in  his  eyes;  a  dull 
fire  shot  from  them,  now  sunken  with  famine, 
fatigue,  and  mental  agony.  In  passing  before  Bar- 
tolommeo  Bozza  to  take  his  place  upon  the  bench 
for  the  accused,  he  raised  his  two  arms  laden  with 
chains  as  if  he  would  crush  him,  and  his  face,  blazing 
with  rage,  said,  "I  would  like  to  send  you  under 
the  earth.** 

The  guards  restrained  him,  and  he  sat  down,  still 
175 


THE  MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

holding  Francesco's  cold,  trembling  hand  in  his 
own. 

"Francesco  Zuccato,"  said  the  judge,  "you  are 
accused  of  theft  and  fraud  against  the  Repubhc; 
what  have  you  to  say?" 

"I  say,"  answered  Francesco,  "that  I  might  as 
well  be  accused  of  murder  and  parricide,  if  it  be 
the  good  pleasure  of  those  who  persecute  me." 

"  And  1,'*  said  Valerio,  impetuously,  rising  to  his 
feet,  "  I  say  that  we  He  under  an  outrageous  accusa- 
tion, and  that  for  three  months  we  have  suffered  in 
prison,  from  which  my  brother  has  come  out  in  a 
dying  condition,  and  all  because  the  Bianchini  hate 
us,  and  because  Bozza,  our  pupil,  is  a  scoundrel; 
but  particularly  because  the  Procurator,  Monsignore 
Melchior,  made  a  mistake  in  Latm.  which  we  took 
upon  ourselves  to  correct.  It  is  the  first  time  two 
citizens  were  ever  imprisoned  for  not  wishing  to 
commit  a  barbarism." 

Valerio's  wrath  was  not  calculated  to  win  the 
good  will  of  the  magistrate.  The  old  Zuccato, 
seeing  the  unfortunate  effect  of  this  harangue,  arose 
and  said:  — 

"  Silence,  my  son.   You  talk  like  an  impudent  fool. 
This  is  not  the  way  in  which  an  honest  citizen  should 
defend  himself  before  the  fathers  of  his  country. 
176 


THE  MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

Gentlemen,  excuse  his  rudeness.  These  poor  young 
men  are  suffering  from  fever.  Examine  their  case 
according  to  your  unswerving  equity.  If  they  are 
guilty,  punish  them  without  pity:  their  father  will 
be  the  first  to  praise  you  for  this  act  of  justice,  and 
to  bless  the  severity  of  the  laws  which  chastise 
fraud.  Yes,  yes,  were  it  necessary  to  shed  their 
blood  myself,  I  would  do  it,  my  fathers,  before  I 
would  see  the  august  power  of  the  Republic  fall  into 
discredit.  But  if  they  are  innocent,  as  I  am  con- 
vinced they  are,  make  them  prompt  and  generous 
redress;  for  you  see  my  eldest  son  here  has  no 
longer  but  a  breath  of  life  left  in  him;  and  as  for 
the  younger,  you  see  he  is  delirious." 

Saying  this  with  a  strong  voice,  the  old  man  fell 
on  his  knees,  while  tears  rolled  copiously  down  his 
long  white  beard. 

"Sebastian  Zuccato,"  answered  the  judge,  "the 
Republic  knows  your  veracity  and  your  loyalty. 
You  have  spoken  as  becomes  a  good  father  and  a 
good  citizen,  but  if  you  have  nothing  else  to  say  in 
defence  of  your  sons  you  must  withdraw." 

At  a  sign  from  the  magistrate,  the  vassal  who  had 

led  in  Sebastian,  led  him  away.    The  old  man  cast 

a  look  of  despair  upon  his  two  sons  as  he  passed 

out,  and,  joining  his  hands,  raised  his  eyes  to  heaven 

177 


THE  MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

with  an  expression  so  heart-rending  it  might  have 
melted  the  marble  pillars  of  the  great  hall ;  but  the 
Council  of  Ten  was  colder  and  more  inflexible  than 
they. 

After  the  three  Bianchini  had  affirmed  their  accu- 
sation upon  oath,  Bartolommeo  Bozza,  being  sum- 
moned in  his  turn  to  the  witness  stand,  placed  his 
hand  upon  the  crucifix  which  was  presented  to  him, 
and  said :  — 

"  I  swear  upon  the  Christ  that  I  have  passed  three 
months  under  the  leads  for  not  being  willing  to  bear 
false  witness." 

A  movement  of  surprise  passed  over  the  assembly. 
Melchior  knit  his  brows.  Bianchini  the  Red  ground 
his  teeth,  and  young  Valerio,  rising  impatiently, 
exclaimed, — 

"  Is  it  true  ?  O  my  poor  pupil !  And  can  I  stilt 
pity  and  love  you  ?  Ah !  this  thought  sweetens  all 
my  pain." 

"Silence,  Valerio  Zuccato,"  said  the  judge,  "and 
let  the  witness  speak." 

Bartolommeo  was  as  weak  and  sick  as  the  Zuccati. 
He  also  had  been  subjected  to  the  slow  torture  of 
imprisonment.  He  testified  that,  some  days  before 
the  Feast  of  Saint  Mark,  Vincent  Bianchini  had  con- 
ducted him  to  the  scaflFolding  of  the  Zuccati  that  he 
178 


THE  MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

might  see  close  to  and  touch  many  places  in  their 
work  where  painted  pasteboard  had  evidently  been 
used  instead  of  stone,  and  that  from  there  he  had 
taken  him  to  the  house  of  the  Procurator-Cassiere  to 
make  affidavit  to  that  effect,  which  he  did  in  the  in- 
dignation and  sincerity  of  his  heart.  From  that  day, 
being  convinced  of  the  trickery  practised  by  the 
Zuccati,  and  not  wishing  to  be  an  accomplice  in  a 
work  which  could  not  fail  to  be  condemned,  he  had 
worked  in  the  school  of  the  Bianchini.  But  Vincent 
on  the  eve  of  Saint  Mark's,  having  again  conducted 
him  to  the  Procurator,  had  wished  to  make  him 
promise  to  testify  that  he  had  been  an  eyewitness 
of  the  facts  as  set  forth  in  the  accusation :  this  he 
had  refused  to  do,  because,  if  he  had  seen  the  proofs 
of  the  fraud,  at  least  he  had  not  seen  the  fraud  com- 
mitted. "  If  I  had  seen  it,"  said  he,  "  I  should  not 
have  waited  for  an  invitation  from  the  Bianchini 
before  leaving  the  school  of  the  Zuccati.  But  I  had 
never  seen  anything  of  the  kind.  There  was  not  the 
slightest  thing  in  the  behavior  of  my  masters  up  to 
that  time  to  give  a  show  of  truth  to  the  discovery 
which  was  brought  under  my  observation.  It  was 
therefore  impossible  for  me  to  swear  by  the  Christ 
that  I  had  seen  them  use  cardboard  and  paint. 
When  Vincent  Bianchini  saw  that  I  did  not  serve  his 
179 


THE   MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

purpose  as  he  wished,  he  turned  against  me  and 
accused  me  of  duplicity  with  the  Zuccati.  Mon- 
signore  Melchior  made  me  a  great  many  threats, 
which  provoked  me  to  such  a  degree  that  I  told  him 
to  beware  of  the  Bianchini.  That  same  evening  I 
was  arrested  and  imprisoned.  From  that  day  I  have 
believed  that  my  old  masters  were  innocent,  and  that 
the  man  capable  of  asking  me  to  take  a  false  oath 
was  also  capable,  unknown  to  the  Zuccati  and  all  the 
world,  of  having  destroyed  a  part  of  the  mosaic 
work  during  the  night,  and  of  having  replaced  the 
stone  by  wood  and  pasteboard,  for  the  purpose  of 
ruining  them.  I  should  state  that  this  substitution 
is  effected  with  so  much  skill  that  without  scratch- 
ing these  pieces  {i  pe^^i)  a  little  it  is  impossible  to 
detect  it." 

Thus  spoke  Bozza  with  a  firm  voice,  and  a  Bo- 
lognese  accent  very  slow  and  distinct.  Summoned 
to  express  his  opinion  upon  the  continual  diversions 
to  which  Valerio  devoted  himself,  he  admitted  that 
this  young  master  had  often  been  reprimanded  for 
idleness  and  dissipation  by  his  elder  brother,  and 
that  he  made  up  afterwards  for  lost  time  by  work- 
ing nights,  which  might  justify  the  reproach  con- 
veyed in  the  accusation  of  his  having  made  works 
without  solidity  {fuor  di  stagione).  He  also  stated 
i8o 


THE  MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

that  Valerio  did  not  understand  metal  work  as  well 
as  his  brother,  and  that  he  made  many  ornamental 
objects  according  to  his  own  particular  fancy.  In  a 
word,  it  was  easy  to  see  that  he  was  not  speaking  out 
of  any  kind  feeling  for  the  Zuccati,  and  that  he  would 
not  have  been  in  the  least  sorry  had  he  hurt  them  by 
telling  the  truth.  But  he  had  a  horror  of  the  lie  in 
which  the  Bianchini  had  wished  to  entrap  him,  and 
whom  he  would  never  forgive  for  having  caused  his 
imprisonment. 

The  Council  closed  the  day's  session  by  nominat- 
ing a  committee  of  painters  authorized  to  examine, 
under  the  eyes  of  the  Procurators,  the  work  of  the 
two  rival  schools.  The  committee  was  composed  of 
Titian,  Tintoretto,  Paolo  Veronese,  Jacopo  Pistoja, 
and  Andrea  Schiavone,  who  from  that  time  was 
called  Medolay  owing  to  the  pains  he  took  to  analyze 
mosaic  work  to  the  utmost. 


i8i 


THE  MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

Cassiere,  annoyed  at  the  success  of  the  Zuccati,  took 
up  the  word. 

"  Gentlemen,"  said  he  to  the  illustrious  masters, 
"  I  must  remind  you  that  we  have  not  come  here  to 
look  at  paintings,  but  at  mosaic  work.  It  matters 
very  little  to  the  State  whether  the  hand  of  the 
Virgin  be  modelled  more  or  less  according  to  the 
rules  of  your  art.  It  matters  still  less  whether  in 
the  leg  of  Saint  Isidore  the  calf  be  a  little  too  high 
or  a  little  too  low.  All  this  is  very  well  as  a  subject 
for  discussion  —  " 

'*  How ! "  cried  Titian,  who  at  this  impious  speech 
forgot  for  the  moment  his  guarded  courtesy, — "  it 
matters  little  to  the  State  that  mosaic-workers  do 
not  understand  drawing,  and  that  the  mosaics  are 
not  elegant  and  correct  reproductions  of  the  works 
of  the  painters  ?  This  is  the  first  time  that  I  have 
heard  of  such  a  thing,  Monsignore,  and  it  will 
require  all  the  respect  with  which  your  judgment 
inspires  me  to  make  me  embrace  this  opinion.** 

Nothing  heightened  the  erroneous  convictions  of 
the  Procuratoi'-Cassiere  like  contradiction. 

"  And  I,  Messer  Tiziano,'*  he  exclaimed  with  heat, 
"  I  assure  you  that  all  that  is  insignificant  and  child- 
ish. These  are  quarrels  of  the  school  and  discussions 
of  the  studio,  in  which  the  dignity  of  the  magistracy 
184 


THE  MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

will  not  allow  itself  to  be  compromised.  Commis- 
sioned by  the  Republic  to  watch  over  its  interests, 
and  to  conduct  the  public  expenses  honestly  and 
economically,  the  Procurators  will  not  permit  the 
works  of  St.  Mark's  to  fall  short  of  their  contract 
for  the  useless  pleasure  of  amusing  amateurs  in 
painting." 

"I  did  not  think,"  said  Francesco  Zuccato  in  a 
feeble  voice,  and  casting  a  pitiful  look  upon  his  work, 
"  that  I  could  fall  short  of  my  contract  by  following 
as  closely  as  possible  the  models  of  my  figures,  and 
in  conforming  conscientiously  to  all  the  rules  of  my. 
art." 

"I  know  the  rules  of  your  art  as  well  as  you, 
Messer,"  said  the  Procurator,  red  with  anger ;  "  you 
cannot  make  me  believe  that  a  mosaic-worker  must 
of  necessity  be  a  painter.  The  Republic  pa}'S  you 
for  servilely  and  faithfully  reproducing  the  cartoons 
of  the  painters,  and  provided  you  fasten  your  stones 
solidly  and  neatly  to  the  wall,  provided  you  know 
how  to  use  good  materials  and  to  adapt  them  to  the 
purposes  for  which  they  are  mtended,  it  matters 
very  little  that  you  should  know  the  rules  of  paint- 
ing and  drawing.  By  the  ducal  cap !  if  you  were 
such  great  artists,  the  Republic  could  be  very  eco- 
nomical. It  would  no  longer  have  to  pay  Messer 
185 


THE  MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

Vecelli  and  Messer  Robusti  for  designing  your 
models.  You  could  be  allowed  to  compose,  direct, 
and  draw  your  own  subjects.  Unfortunately,  we 
have  not  enough  confidence  in  you  as  master  paint- 
ers to  trust  them  to  you." 

'' Nevertheless,  Monsignore,"  said  Titian,  who  had 
recovered  his  calm  and  who  knew  how  to  give  a 
benign  expression  to  the  contemptuous  smile  play- 
ing about  his  lips,  "I  venture  to  object  to  your 
Lordship,  that,  in  order  to  know  how  to  copy  a 
good  drawing  faithfully,  one  must  himself  be  a  good 
artist.  Were  it  not  so,  one  might  trust  Raphael's 
cartoons  to  the  first  schoolboy  that  presented  him- 
self, and  it  would  suffice  that  one  have  a  grand 
model  under  his  eyes  to  constitute  him  at  once  a 
great  artist.  Things  are  not  done  in  this  way,  as 
your  Lordship  will  permit  me  to  say,  with  all  the 
respect  which  I  profess  for  your  opinions ;  but  it  is 
one  thing  to  govern  men  by  sublime  wisdom,  and 
another  to  amuse  them  with  frivolous  talents.  We 
should  be  very  much  perplexed,  we  poor  artisans, 
if,  like  your  Lordship,  we  had  to  hold  the  reins  of 
the  State  with  a  firm  and  generous  hand;  but  —  *' 

"  But  you  pretend,  flatterer,"  said  the  Procurator, 
somewhat  softened,  "that  you  understand  what 
pertains  to  painting  and  mosaic  work  better,  than 
i86 


THE  MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

we.  You  will  not  deny,  at  least,  that  solidity  is  one 
of  the  indispensable  conditions  of  this  kind  of  work, 
and  if,  instead  of  using  stone,  crystal,  marble,  and 
enamel,  one  employs  pasteboard,  wood,  oil,  and  var- 
nish, you  will  admit  that  the  funds  of  the  Republic 
have  not  been  put  to  their  proper  use." 

Here  Titian  was  slightly  embarrassed,  for  he  did 
not  know  how  much  foundation  there  might  be  for 
this  accusation  of  the  Bianchini,  and  he  feared  to 
compromise  the  Zuccati  by  any  imprudent  remark. 

"  I  deny,  at  least,"  said  he,  after  a  moment's  pause, 
**  that  this  substitution  of  material  constitutes  a  fraud, 
provided  it  be  proved,  as  I  think  it  can  be,  that  the 
brush  may  be  used  in  certain  places  of  mosaic  work 
with  as  much  solidity  as  enamel." 

"  Very  well,  this  is  what  we  are  going  to  find  out, 
Messer  Vecelli,"  said  the  Procurator,  "  for  we  do  not 
wish  to  doubt  your  sincerity  in  this  matter.  Let  us 
have  some  sand  and  a  sponge  here ;  and  by  the  cap  ! 
we  '11  have  it  rubbed  thick  all  over  these  walls." 

Francesco's  lifeless  eyes  glistened,  and  turned  with 
comtemptible  hatred  toward  the  inscription  where 
the  word  Saxis  had  replaced  the  barbarism  Saxibus. 
He  thought  to  himself,  if  he  should  be  condemned 
for  the  substitution  of  a  single  letter,  he  would  con- 
sole himself  for  it  by  seeing  the  blunder  of  the 
187 


THE  MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

Procurator  made  public.  Melchior  understood  his 
thought,  and  read  his  look;  he  avoided  applying  the 
test  here,  and  carried  it  to  other  parts  of  the  dome. 

The  mosaics  of  the  Zuccati,  thoroughly  rubbed 
and  washed  in  all  places,  withstood  the  experiment 
perfectly;  no  part  of  it  fell  nor  was  likely  to  fall. 
The  Procurator-Cassiere  began  to  think  that  the 
avowed  hatred  of  the  Bianchini  and  his  own  preju- 
dice had  misled  him  in  an  aifair  but  little  to  his 
credit,  when  Vincent  Bianchini,  approaching  the  two 
archangels,  one  of  which  was  the  portrait  of  Valerio 
and  the  other  of  Francesco  Zuccati,  said  boldly :  -— 

"  It  is  true  that  wood  and  painted  pasteboard  may 
resist  sand  and  a  wet  sponge,  but  it  is  not  true  that 
they  can  resist  the  influence  of  time,  and  here  is  a 
proof  of  it."  So  saying,  he  took  out  his  stiletto, 
and,  punching  it  into  the  naked  breast  of  the  arch- 
angel which  represented  Francesco  Zuccato  near  to 
the  heart,  he  started  a  piece  of  flesh-colored  sub- 
stance, which  he  quickly  cut  in  two  with  his  knife 
and  handed  to  the  Procurators.  The  fragment  being 
passed  from  hand  to  hand,  Titian  himself  was  forced 
to  admit  that  it  was  a  piece  of  wood. 


i88 


XIX. 

FRANCESCO  and  Valerio  were  led  back  to  prison, 
and  eight  days  afterwards  tliey  appeared  again 
before  the  Council  of  Ten.  The  proces-verbal  report, 
drawn  up  by  the  commission  of  painters,  was  read 
aloud  to  them.  They  avoided  any  allusion  to  the 
inferiority  of  the  works  of  the  Bianchini.  They- 
knew  that  to  depreciate  them  as  works  of  art  would 
irritate  the  Procurator-Cassiere  more  and  more,  and, 
the  affairs  of  the  Zuccati  having  taken  a  sufficiently 
bad  turn,  prudence  required  that  they  should  not 
further  excite  their  enemies ;  but  they  were  profuse 
in  their  praise  of  the  cupola  of  the  Zuccati,  and  they 
had  proved  the  solidity  of  all  this  work  with  the 
exception  of  two  unimportant  figures,  where  wood 
had  been  used  instead  of  stone.  Titian  had  even 
affirmed  that  he  thought  this  painted  mosaic  work 
capable  of  resisting  the  ravages  of  time  for  five 
hundred  years  or  more ;  and  his  prediction  is  veri- 
fied, for  these  pieces  spoken  of  in  the  process  are 
still  in  existence,  and  apparently  as  beautiful  and 
189 


THE  MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

solid  as  the  other  parts  of  the  mosaic  work.  As  to 
the  ability  of  the  young  Zuccato,  charged  by  his 
accusers  of  incapacity  or  ignorance,  he  was  glori- 
ously vindicated  by  the  proch-^erbal,  and  declared  at 
least  as  capable  as  his  brother. 

After  this  statement,  the  whole  accusation  rested 
only  upon  one  point,  that  of  the  substitution  of 
unusual  material  in  the  execution  of  the  figures  of 
the  two  archangels. 

Francesco,  questioned  as  to  what  he  had  to  offer 
in  his  defence,  said  that,  having  been  for  a  long  time 
convinced  of  the  advantage  of  this  substitution  for 
certain  details,  and  anxious  to  prove  its  solidity,  he 
had  ventured  to  try  it  in  these  two  figures,  which 
were  of  little  importance,  and  which  he  always  meant 
to  repair  at  his  own  expense  if  its  durability  did 
not  fulfil  his  expectations,  or  if  the  Republic  was 
opposed  to  such  an  innovation. 

The  Council  did  not  seem  willing  to  accept  this 
excuse.  Pressed  by  accusations  and  threats,  Valerio 
could  not  control  his  temper. 

"Very  well,"  said  he,  "since  you  wish  to  know, 
learn  the  secret  that  my  brother  wished  to  keep.  In 
telling  it  to  you,  I  know  very  well  that  I  expose 
myself,  not  only  to  the  hatred  and  envy  which  are 
already  brought  to  bear  against  us,  but  also  to  that 
190 


THE  MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

of  all  our  future  rivals.  I  know  that  rude  workmen 
and  vile  mechanics  will  be  indignant  at  seeing  in  us 
conscientious  artists.  I  know  they  will  pretend  to 
consider  mosaic  work  nothing  but  a  work  of  simple 
masonry,  and  that  they  will  persecute  as  unworthy 
companions  and  ambitious  rivals  any  one  who  tries 
to  make  an  art  of  it,  and  bring  to  it  the  fire  of 
enthusiasm  or  the  light  of  intelligence.  Very  well, 
I  object  to  such  blasphemy.  I  say  that  a  true 
mosaic-worker  ought  to  be  an  artist,  and  I  assert 
that  my  brother  Francesco,  the  pupil  of  his  father 
and  of  Messer  Tiziano,  is  a  great  painter ;  and  I  prove 
it  by  declaring  that  the  two  figures  of  the  archangels 
which  have  obtained  the  praise  of  the  illustrious 
commission  nominated  by  the  Council,  were  con- 
ceived, composed,  designed,  and  colored  by  my 
brother,  whose  apprentice  I  was,  and  the  workman 
who  faithfully  copied  his  cartoons.  Perhaps  We 
have  been  guilty  of  a  serious  crime  for  taking  upon 
ourselves  to  consecrate  our  best  work  to  the  Repub- 
lic, offering  it  gratis  and  privately,  with  a  modesty 
becoming  young  men  and  with  a  prudence  becom- 
ing young  men  who  acknowledge  another  God  than 
money  and  public  favor ;  but  when  we  are  accused 
of  fraud,  we  are  forced  to  set  aside  this  prudence 
and  modesty.  We  ask,  therefore,  that  it  be  proved 
191 


THE  MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

whether  we  have  tried  this  innovation  except  in  a 
composition  not  required  of  us,  and  which  we  are 
ready  to  remove  from  the  basilica  if  the  government 
considers  it  unworthy  to  appear  beside  the  works  of 
the  Bianchini." 

Upon  examining  the  cartoons  of  the  various  com- 
positions designed  by  the  painters  and  intrusted  to 
the  mosaic-workers,  they  did  not  find  these  two 
archangel  figures.  The  Procurator  Melchior  urged 
each  of  the  painters  to  give  his  opinion  upon  the 
merits  of  these  figures,  and  to  specify  what  they  had 
had  to  do  with  them.  As  they  had  been  invested  by 
the  State  with  all  rights  and  all  power  in  regard  to 
these  things,  a  simple  sketch  drawn  by  one  of  them 
would  have  sulTiced  to  prove  that  the  Zuccati,  bound 
to  execute  to  the  letter  their  designs,  had  rendered 
themselves  guilty  of  unfaithfulness,  disobedience, 
and  fraud  in  executing  them  according  to  a  method 
of  their  own,  and  in  using  material  not  approved 
by  the  Commission  of  Procurators.  The  painters 
declared  upon  oath  that  they  had  not  had  even  an 
idea  of  these  figures ;  and  as  to  their  merit  they  also 
stated  that  they  themselves  would  not  have  been 
able  to  create  anything  more  correct  or  more  noble. 
Titian  was  questioned  twice.  They  knew  his  friend- 
ship for  the  Zuccati;  they  knew  also  his  tact,  his 
192 


THE  MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

ingenuity  in  evading  the  questions  he  did  not  wish 
to  answer.  Summoned  to  say  whether  he  was  the 
author  of  these  figures,  he  answered  courteously, 
"  I  wish  I  were,  but,  to  tell  the  truth,  I  have  not  even 
seen  the  design  of  them,  and  I  had  no  suspicion  of 
their  existence  until,  as  a  member  of  the  commis- 
sion, I  was  ordered  to  examine  them." 

The  Bianchini  maintained  that  the  Zuccati  were 
not  capable  of  designing  works  worthy  of  so  much 
praise  without  assistance.  In  spite  of  the  declara- 
tions of  the  painters,  they  held  an  inquiry  to  which 
Bozza  was  summoned,  and,  as  an  old  pupil  of  the 
Zuccati,  he  was  requested  to  state  if  he  had  seen  any 
painter  touch  these  figures.  He  replied,  that  once 
only  he  had  seen  Messer  Orazio  Vecelli,  Titian's  son, 
come  by  night  to  the  studio  of  the  Zuccati  at  the 
time  when  they  were  working  there.  Orazio  was 
summoned,  and  declared  upon  oath  that  he  had  not 
even  seen  them,  and  that  his  visit  to  the  studio  of 
San  Filippo  by  night  was  for  no  other  object  than 
to  order  from  Valerio  a  mosaic  bracelet  which  he 
wished  to  present  to  a  lady.  There  was  no  longer 
any  proof  against  the  Zuccati.  They  were  acquitted, 
on  the  sole  condition  of  replacing  at  their  own  ex- 
pense, by  pieces  of  stone  and  enamel,  the  fragments 
of  painted  wood  employed  in  certain  details  of  their 
193 


THE   MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

figures.  This  part  of  the  decree  was  simply  a  mat- 
ter of  form,  in  order  not  to  encourage  innovators. 
They  did  not  even  insist  on  the  execution  of  it,  for 
the  painted  pieces  are  there  still.  The  barbarism 
of  the  Procur ator 'Gassier e  alone  has  been  restored 
according  to  the  manner  in  which  it  came  forth 
from  the  learned  brain  of  this  magistrate,  and  above 
the  two  archangels  we  read  this  other  touching  in- 
scription, alluding  to  the  persecutions  suffered  by 
the  Zuccati ;  — 

Ubi  diligenter 

INSPEXERIS  ARTEMQ.  AC  LABO- 
REM  FRANCISCI  ET  VALERII 
ZVCATI  VENETORVM  FRATRVM 
AGNOVERIS  TVM  DEMVM  IVDI- 
CATO. 


194 


XX. 

IN  spite  of  the  fortunate  termination  of  this  legal 
process,  much  was  required  before  the  fortunes 
of  the  Zuccati  took  on  a  happy  aspect.  Francesco* s 
health  returned  slowly.  No  new  public  work  was 
demanded  of  the  mosaic-workers.  There  was  some- 
talk  even  of  keeping  them  at  a  standstill,  and  of 
preserving  all  the  old  Byzantine  works,  for  fashion 
had  taken  an  austere  turn,  and  while  the  wise 
sumptuary  laws  covered  the  cloaks  and  gondolas 
with  mourning,  the  people,  less  serious,  through  a 
spirit  of  imitation,  wrapped  themselves  in  long 
Roman  togas,  and  wore  ornaments  of  iron  and 
silver  only.  The  word  "economy"  was  on  every 
lip.  The  plague  had  paralyzed  commerce,  and,  as 
generations  pass  readily  from  one  excess  to  another, 
after  ruinous  luxury  and  foolish  expenditures  came 
a  time  of  penurious  retrenchments  and  childish 
reforms.  Artists  fared  ill  in  these  hours  of 
financial  depression.  The  Procurator-Cassiere  was 
195 


THE  MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

not  an  isolated  fool,  but  the  representative  of  a 
great  number  of  narrow  souls. 

Francesco  had  fallen  into  a  state  of  deep  despond- 
ency. An  enthusiastic  artist,  he  had  aspired  to  and 
hoped  for  glory.  He  had  served  her  as  one  serves 
a  noble  mistress,  by  noble  sacrifices,  with  an  ardent 
and  exclusive  worship.  For  his  sole  recompense, 
he  had  seen  himself  exposed  to  an  infamous  impris- 
onment, imminent  death,  and  a  disgraceful  lawsuit. 
Moreover,  the  success  of  his  masterpieces  was  ques- 
tioned. Men  do  not  see  without  chastisement  mis- 
fortune burst  upon  the  head  of  the  elect.  They  are 
seized,  therefore,  with  a  vertigo  of  mediocrity,  and 
try  in  all  manner  of  ways  to  excuse  and  justify  the 
evils  with  which  genius  is  stricken.  It  was  enough 
to  have  found  a  small  piece  of  wood  in  one  of  the 
little  figures  of  the  Zuccati  for  the  public  to  con- 
clude at  once  that  the  whole  mosaic  work  was  exe- 
cuted in  wood.  The  illiterate  even  went  so  far  as 
to  say  it  was  of  paper,  and,  convinced  of  its  want 
of  solidity,  they  would  have  considered  it  a  lack  of 
patriotism  to  lift  their  heads  in  order  to  admire  the 
beauty  of  the  figures.  The  young  artist  was  wounded 
to  the  depths  of  his  soul,  and  suffered  the  more 
as  he  carefully  concealed  his  wound,  and  hated  the 
public  too  much  to  give  it  the  satisfaction  of  seeing 
196 


THE  MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

him  vanquished.  Closely  shut  up  in  his  little  room 
at  San  Filippo,  he  passed  his  days  at  the  window 
absorbed  in  sad  thoughts,  and  was  only  distracted 
from  his  misery  by  watching  the  great  ivies  of  the 
court  swaying  in  the  breeze.  This  quiet^  scene 
was  refreshing  to  him  after  his  sojourn  under  the 
leads,  where  the  want  of  air  had  slowly  undermined 
his  life. 

During  the  time  of  his  success  and  his  sumptuous 
amusements,  Valerio  had  fallen  considerably  into 
debt.  His  creditors  tormented  him.  Francesco 
found  out  this  secret,  and  devoted  all  his  savings  to 
the  payment  of  these  debts.  Valerio  knew  this  only 
a  long  time  afterward.  He  was  sad  enough  without 
remorse  being  added  to  the  anxiety  caused  him  by 
his  dear  brother's  health.  The  thought  of  losing 
him  shook  his  very  soul,  and  he  felt  that,  in  spite  of 
his  natural  disposition  to  accept  the  ills  of  life,  he 
could  never  console  himself  for  his  loss.  Incapable 
of  melancholy,  too  strong  for  resignation  and  too 
strong  also  for  despair,  he  often  fell  into  violent 
states  of  indignation,  followed  by  brilliant  hopes, 
and  he  entertained  Francesco  with  dreams  of  fame 
and  happiness,  although  really  at  heart  no  one  needed 
glory  less  than  he  in  order  to  be  happy. 

Old  Sebastian  begged  them  to  return  to  the  brush, 
197 


THE  MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

and  give  up  this  vile  mosaic  work.  But  Francesco 
had  received  too  rude  a  shock  to  yield  himself  to 
fresh  hopes.  To  undertake  a  new  career  at  thirty 
required  a  resolution  beyond  the  power  of  a  spirit 
so  wounded,  a  body  so  weakened.  To  his  suffering 
was  added  that  of  his  friends.  His  disgrace  had 
caused  Ceccato  to  lose  his  prerogatives  as  master ; 
both  he  and  Marini  were  in  a  state  of  absolute  want. 
In  vain  Francesco  solicited  the  payment  for  his 
year's  work.  The  finances,  like  all  other  depart- 
ments of  the  administration,  were  dull  and  in  dis- 
order. All  his  efforts  were  useless.  They  put  him 
off  from  day  to  day,  from  week  to  week.  The 
secret  hatred  of  the  Procurator-Cassiere  had  some- 
thing to  do  with  these  postponements  of  payment. 
By  this  subtle  vengeance  he  paid  back  the  irony 
of  the  Zuccati,  too  little  punished  in  his  opinion  by 
the  Council. 

The  Zuccati  were  resolved  to  share  their  last  crust 
of  bread  with  their  faithful  apprentices.  They  fed 
Marini,  Ceccato,  his  young  convalescent  wife,  and 
his  remaining  child.  Valerio  still  obtained  some 
money  from  the  Greeks  stationed  in  Venice,  by  sell- 
ing them  jewelry ;  but  this  resource  would  not  be 
sufficient  for  such  a  numerous  family  after  Fran- 
cesco's savings  should  be  spent.  Then  Valerio 
198 


THE  MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

reproached  himself  bitterly  for  not  having  laid  by 
anything ;  he  realized  too  late  that  prodigality  is  a 
vice.  "Yes,  yes,"  said  he  with  a  sigh,  "the  man 
who  spends  what  he  earns  by  the  sweat  of  his  brow 
in  empty  amusement  and  foolish  display  does  not 
deserve  to  have  friends,  because  he  cannot  aid  them 
in  the  day  of  distress." 

So  it  was  necessary  for  him  to  see  by  what  inde- 
fatigable zeal  and  skilful  application  he  could  repair 
the  faults  of  the  past.  He  had  divided  his  narrow 
room  into  three  compartments,  —  a  studio,  a  refec- 
tory, and  a  sleeping-room  for  Francesco.  At  night 
he  slept  on  a  mat  in  the  first  convenient  corner, 
oftener  on  the  terrace  raised  above  the  roof.  During 
the  day  he  worked  assiduously,  and  got  his  appren- 
tices to  make  mosaic  pictures,  hoping  always  that 
the  time  would  come  when  works  of  art  would  no 
longer  be  ranked  as  luxuries  and  objects  of  fancy. 
He  alone  attended  to  all  the  details  of  the  housekeep- 
ing, and,  if  he  allowed  Ceccato's  wife  to  prepare  the 
dinner,  he  did  not  permit  her  to  fatigue  herself  in 
the  least  by  going  to  purchase  it.  He  went  himself 
to  the  fish  market,  to  the  vegetable  market,  to  the 
frittole,  and  he  might  be  seen,  covered  with  per- 
spiration, threading  the  winding  streets  with  a  basket 
under  his  cloak.  If  he  met  any  of  the  young  noble- 
199 


THE  MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

men  who  heretofore  had  shared  his  pleasures  and 
his  generosity,  he  carefully  evaded  them,  or  obsti- 
nately concealed  his  poverty  from  them,  fearing  they 
might  send  assistance  to  him,  the  offer  of  which 
alone  would  have  humiliated  him.  He  pretended  to 
have  lost  nothing  of  his  gayety,but  the  forced  laugh- 
ter upon  his  drawn  lips,  the  quick  glance  of  his  eye, 
still  sparkling  with  fever  and  excitement,  could 
deceive  only  the  shallowest  of  friends  or  minds 
preoccupied. 

One  day,  when  Valerio  was  crossing  one  of  these 
dark  silent  little  courts,  which  served  as  a  passage  to 
the  armory,  where  four  persons  would  hardly  meet 
face  to  face  in  broad  daylight,  he  saw,  near  a  damp 
wall,  a  man  trying  to  support  himself,  but  who  fell 
from  weakness.  He  drew  near,  and  took  him  in  his 
arms.  But  what  was  his  surprise  when  he  recog- 
nized in  this  man,  in  rags,  emaciated  with  hunger, 
and  whom  he  had  taken  for  a  beggar,  his  old  pupil, 
Bartolommeo  Bozza  ? 

''There  are  then  in  Venice,"  said  he,  "artists 
more  unfortunate  than  I." 

He  made  him  swallow  at  once  a  few  drops  of  wine 
of  Istria,  a  bottle  of  which  he  had  in  his  basket. 
Then  he  gave  him  some  figs,  which  the  poor  man 
seized  voraciously  and  devoured  without  removing 


THE  MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

the  skins.  When  his  hunger  was  somewhat  ap- 
peased, he  recognized  the  kindly  man  who  had 
assisted  him.  A  torrent  of  tears  flowed  from  his 
eyes,  but  Valerio  never  knew  whether  it  was  shame, 
remorse,  or  gratitude  which  caused  them ;  for.  Bozza 
did  not  utter  a  word,  and  tried  to  flee.  The  gentle 
Valerio  detained  him. 

"  Where  are  you  going,  my  poor  fellow  ? "  said 
he.  *'Do  you  not  see  that  your  strength  has  not 
returned,  and  that  you  will  fall  in  a  few  minutes  a 
little  farther  on  ?  I  am  poor  also,  and  I  cannot  offer 
you  money,  but  come  with  me;  your  old  friends 
will  open  their  arms  to  you,  and  while  there  is  a 
measure  of  rice  in  San  Filippo  you  shall  share 
it  with  them." 

Then  he  took  him  by  the  hand,  and  Bozza  allowed 
himself  to  be  led  mechanically,  showing  neither  joy 
nor  surprise. 


XXI. 

FRANCESCO  could  not  repress  a  movement  of 
repugnance  when  Bozza  appeared  before  him. 
He  knew  that  this  young  man,  honest  in  many  re- 
spects and  incapable  of  a  mean  action,  had  no  kind- 
ness, no  affection,  no  generous  impulses  in  his  heart. 
In  him  all  expressions  of  tenderness  and  sympathy 
were  overruled  by  his  indomitable  pride  and  inexo- 
rable ambition.  However,  when  Francesco  learned 
in  what  a  condition  Valerio  had  found  him,  he  has- 
tened to  find  him  a  pair  of  shoes  and  one  of  his 
best  suits,  and  offered  them  to  him  while  his  brother 
prepared  for  him  a  substantial  meal.  From  this 
moment  Bozza  became  one  of  this  poor  family, 
which,  by  dint  of  economy,  method,  and  labor,  still 
lived  honorably  at  San  Filippo.  Valerio  did  not  re- 
gret the  trouble  he  had  been  to,  and  in  the  evening, 
when  he  saw  his  old  school  reunited  around  the 
frugal  board,  his  heart  beat  again  with  joy,  and  his 
whole  being  was  filled  with  happiness.  Then  Fran- 
cesco's restless  eyes  met  those  of  Bozza,  always  full 
of  indifference  or  disdain.    Bozza  understood  noth- 

202 


THE  MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

ing  of  the  heroic  devotion  of  the  Zuccati.  So  little 
conception  had  he  of  such  nobility  of  character,  that 
he  attributed  it  to  motives  of  personal  interest,  to 
the  design  of  founding  a  new  school  in  order  to 
secure  the  labor  of  their  apprentices,  or  to.  engage 
their  services  beforehand,  so  that  they  would  not 
join  another  school.  What  his  companions  justly 
regarded  as  sublime  was  to  him  simply  clever. 

But  poverty  threatened  them  more  and  more. 
The  Zuccati  were  determined  to  endure  the  severest 
privations  before  calling  upon  the  illustrious  mas- 
ters whose  friendship  they  possessed.  Their  father-'s 
fortune  was  more  than  mediocre.  His  pride  had 
always  prevented  his  receiving  any  assistance  from 
his  sons,  who  occupied,  according  to  his  ideas,  such 
a  humiliating  position.  While  they  had  been  pros- 
perous, they  had  handed  over  to  him  a  part  of  their 
salary;  but,  in  order  for  him  to  accept  it,  Titian 
had  to  make  him  consent  to  receive  it  in  his  name. 
Now  that  the  Zuccati  could  no  longer  assist  their 
father,  Titian  continued,  on  his  own  account,  to  fur- 
nish the  old  man  this  allowance,  and  the  grateful 
sons  concealed  their  want  from  him,  fearing  to  abuse 
his  generosity. 

Fortunately  Tintoretto  watched  over  them,  al- 
though he  himself  was  straitened  in  circumstances 
203 


THE  MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

at  this  time.  Art  seemed  to  fall  into  discredit.  The 
confraternities  made  but  modest  votive  offerings. 
They  talked  of  selling  all  the  paintings  in  the  studios 
in  order  to  distribute  the  proceeds  among  the  poor 
workmen  of  the  corporations.  The  noblemen  hid 
all  signs  of  luxury  in  the  depths  of  their  palaces,  in 
order  to  avoid  any  great  demands  that  might  be 
made  upon  them  in  behalf  of  the  poorer  classes. 
Nevertheless,  Tintoretto  still  found  means  to  assist 
his  unfortunate  friends.  Besides  finding,  unknown 
to  them,  many  purchasers  for  their  beautiful  orna- 
ments, he  constantly  insisted  that  the  Senate  should 
give  them  employment.  He  succeeded  finally  in 
proving  the  need  of  new  repairs  in  the  basilica. 
Some  of  the  walls  in  Byzantine  mosaics  (those  still 
to  be  seen  in  St.  Mark's)  might  be  preserved,  but  it 
would  be  necessary  to  remove  them  entirely,  and  to 
replace  them  by  means  of  new  mastic.  Other  por- 
tions were  altogether  irreparable,  and  it  would  be 
necessary  to  replace  them  by  new  compositions  be- 
fore they  all  fell  to  dust,  which  would  incur  more 
expense  than  one  would  think.  The  Senate  decreed 
these  works  to  be  done,  and  voted  a  sum  for  the 
purpose;  but  they  decided  that  the  number  of  work- 
men in  mosaic  should  be  reduced,  and,  to  put  an 
end  to  all  rivalry,  there  should  be  but  one  head  and 
204 


THE  MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

one  school.  The  head  should  be  he  who,  after  a 
meeting  of  all  the  workmen  previously  employed, 
should  be  judged  the  most  capable  by  the  painters 
of  the  commission :  his  school  should  be  organized 
at  once,  not  by  his  own  choice  according  to  his 
sympathy  and  his  family  interest,  but  according  to 
the  degree  of  ability  of  the  other  competitors  known 
to  the  commission.  There  was  to  be  a  grand  prize, 
a  second  prize,  and  four  minor  prizes.  The  number 
of  masters  was  limited  to  six. 

The  committee  was  then  nominated,  and  was  com- 
posed of  the  painters  who  had  examined  the  works- 
of  the  Zuccati  and  the  Bianchini.  The  meeting  was 
opened,  and  the  subject  proposed  was  a  picture  in 
mosaic  representing  Saint  Jerome.  When  Tintoretto 
carried  these  joyful  tidings  to  the  Zuccati,  he  placed 
in  their  hands  the  one  hundred  ducats  which  was  due 
them  for  their  year's  work,  and  which  he  had  at  last 
succeeded  in  obtaining.  This  unexpected  triumph 
over  a  destiny  so  unfortunate  and  so  appalling  awoke 
again  both  Francesco's  and  Bozza's  failing  energy, 
but  in  a  manner  strongly  contrasted ;  for  while  the 
young  man  folded  in  his  arms  his  brother  and  his 
dear  apprentices,  Bartolommeo,  with  a  yell  as  harsh 
and  wild  as  that  of  a  sea-gull,  darted  out  of  the 
studio,  and  was  never  seen  there  again. 
205 


THE  MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

The  first  thing  he  did  was  to  run  to  the  Bianchini 
and  inform  them  as  to  their  prospective  situation. 
Bozza  felt  hatred  and  contempt  for  the  Bianchini, 
but  he  could  turn  them  to  account.  It  was  very 
evident  that,  either  through  partiality  or  justice,  the 
works  of  Francesco  and  his  pupils  would  be  judged 
the  first  at  the  meeting.  The  Bianchini  were  only 
mechanics,  and  certainly  would  not  be  engaged  ex- 
cept in  subordinate  positions  upon  the  future  work 
of  the  Republic.  On  the  other  hand,  Bozza  knew 
that  Francesco's  weak  and  sickly  condition  would 
not  allow  him  to  work.  He  thought  that  Valerio 
would  accomplish  alone  the  two  efforts  demanded 
of  the  Zuccati,  that  even  the  apprentices  might  have 
a  hand  in  them ;  for  the  allotted  time  was  short,  and 
the  committee  would  take  into  consideration  the 
promptitude  as  well  as  the  knowledge  of  the  con- 
testants. In  the  bottom  of  his  heart  he  flattered 
himself  that  he  could  rival  all  the  school.  During 
the  last  days  passed  at  San  Filippo  he  had  closely 
studied  the  rules  of  design,  and  had  sought  to 
master  the  secrets  in  color  and  drawing  which 
Valerio  had  so  candidly  and  generously  imparted 
to  him. 

Although  hoping  to  surpass  the  Zuccati,  Bozza  was 
not  blind  to  the  difficulty  of  supplanting  Francesco, 
206 


THE  MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

whose  name  was  already  illustrious,  while  his  own 
was  still  unknown.  It  was  necessary  in  order  to  get 
rid  of  him  that  the  Procurators  should  intimidate 
the  judges  by  the  intrigues  and  menaces  of  Melchior. 
Now  the  Procurators  were  in  favor  of  the  Bianchini, 
for  they  had  praised  them  servilely  by  telling  them 
that  they  understood  painting  and  mosaic  work 
much  better  than  Tintoretto  or  Titian.  Determined 
to  fight  against  the  talent  of  the  Zuccati,  Bozza  had 
only  to  secure  to  himself  the  influence  of  the  Bian- 
chini. He  did  so  by  showing  the  Bianchini  that 
they  could  not  do  without  him,  because  they  were  • 
entirely  ignorant  of  the  rules  of  design,  and  that 
their  works  would  surely  be  discarded  by  the  com- 
mittee if  they  did  not  abandon  the  direction  of  them 
to  him.  This  insolent  pretension  did  not  wound 
the  Bianchini.  Money  was  much  dearer  to  thern 
than  praise,  and  the  indifference  of  the  painters 
toward  them  at  the  time  of  the  last  examination 
filled  them  with  misgivings  for  the  future.  There- 
fore they  accepted  Bozza' s  offer,  and  even  agreed  to 
give  him  ten  ducats  in  advance.  With  half  of  this 
sum  he  hastened  at  once  to  buy  a  beautiful  chain, 
which  he  sent  to  the  Zuccati,  and  which  Francesco 
placed  upon  his  brother's  neck  without  knowing 
whence  it  came. 

207 


THE  MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

Everywhere  work  was  vigorously  resumed.  But 
Francesco,  for  the  moment  reanimated  with  hope, 
overrated  his  strength,  and,  being  stricken  down 
with  fever  after  a  few  days,  was  obliged  to  interrupt 
his  work  and  watch  the  progress  of  his  school  from 
his  bed. 


208 


XXII. 

THIS  relapse  caused  Valerio  such  intense  anxiety 
that  he  had  to  give  up  his  work  and  with- 
draw from  the  contest.  Francesco's  condition  was 
serious,  and  the  mental  agony  he  felt  at  seeing  his 
masterpiece  begun  and  interrupted  augmented  still 
more  his  physical  suffering.  This  agony  was  still 
further  increased  when  Ceccato's  wife  thoughtlessly 
told  him  that,  in  passing  by,  she  had  seen  Bozza  in 
the  Bianchini's  studio.  This  mark  of  ingratitude 
seemed  to  him  so  black  that  he  cried  with  indigna- 
tion, thus  heightening  his  fever.  Valerio,  seeing 
him  so  worried,  pretended  that  Nina  was  deceived, 
and  that  he  should  go  himself  and  find  out  if  it 
were  true.  He  could  not  really  believe  in  such 
heartlessness  on  the  part  of  a  workman  with  whom, 
in  spite  of  so  many  grievances,  he  had  shared  his 
last  penny.  He  proceeded  to  San  Fantino,  where  the 
Bianchini  had  their  studio,  and  through  the  open 
door  he  saw  Bozza  occupied  in  directing  the  young 
Antonio.  He  requested  an  interview  with  him,  and, 
209 


THE  MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

having  taken  him  a  short  distance  away,  he  earnestly 
reproved  him  for  his  conduct. 

"  Seeing  you  go  away  so  hurriedly  the  other  day,'* 
said  he,  "  I  knew  very  well  that,  at  the  first  hope  of 
personal  success,  your  old  friends  would  be  strangers 
to  you.  I  understood  very  well  the  egotism  of  the 
artist,  and  my  brother  tried  to  excuse  it,  saying  that 
the  thirst  for  glory  is  a  passion  so  imperious  that 
everything  gives  way  before  it;  but  between  egotism 
and  wickedness,  between  ingratitude  and  treachery^ 
there  is  a  chasm  which  I  did  not  believe  you  could 
overleap  so  lightly.  All  honor  to  you,  Bartolom- 
meo !  You  have  given  me  a  bitter  lesson,  and  you 
have  made  me  distrustful  of  the  ennobling  influence 
of  benefits." 

"Do  not  speak  of  benefits,  Messer,"  said  Bozza, 
coldly.  "  I  have  not  accepted  any.  You  assisted  me 
in  the  hope  that  I  would  become  useful  to  you.  For 
my  part,  I  do  not  wish  to  become  useful  to  you,  and 
I  have  repaid  your  services  by  a  gift,  the  value  of 
which  far  surpasses  the  amount  of  expense  you  have 
been  to  on  my  account." 

Saying  this,  Bozza  pointed  to  the  chain  which 
Valerio  wore  on  his  neck.  As  soon  as  Valerio 
understood  to  what  he  referred,  he  snatched  it  so 
violently  that  it  broke  into  pieces. 

210 


THE  MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

"  Is  it  possible,"  he  exclaimed,  choking  back  the 
tears  of  shame  and  anger,  — "  is  it  possible  that  you 
have  dared  to  send  me  a  gift  ?" 

"This  is  done  every  day,"  answered  Bozza.  "I 
do  not  deny  your  kindness  in  receiving  me,  and  I 
likewise  give  you  credit  for  knowing  me  well  enough 
not  to  be  troubled  in  regard  to  the  expense  you 
have  been  to  in  taking  care  of  me." 

"  So,"  said  Valerio,  holding  the  chain  in  his  trem- 
bling hand,  and  fixing  his  eyes  ablaze  with  anger 
upon  Bozza, "  you  took  my  studio  for  a  shop,  and 
thought  I  kept  open  house  by  way  of  speculation  ? 
It  is  thus  you  appreciate  my  sacrifices,  my  devotion 
to  my  unfortunate  brethren!  When,  in  order  to 
give  you  time  to  work,  I  myself  prepared  your 
meals,  you  looked  upon  me  as  your  cook ! " 

"  I  had  no  such  thought,"  answered  Bozza  coldly; 
"  I  thought  you  wanted  to  enlist  an  artist  whom  you 
considered  not  without  talent,  and,  in  order  to  free 
myself  and  make  things  even  with  you,  I  made  you 
a  present.    Is  n't  it  customary  ?" 

Valerio,  exasperated  at  these  words,  threw  the 
chain  violently  in  his  face.  Bozza  was  struck  near 
the  eye,  and  the  blood  ran. 

"  You  will  pay  me  for  this  insult,"  said  he  calmly. 
"  If  I  control  myself  here,  it  is  because  by  one  word 


THE  MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

I  could  have  ten  poniards  pointed  at  your  throat. 
We  shall  meet  elsewhere,  I  hope." 

"  Do  not  doubt  it/'  said  Valerio. 

And  they  parted. 

On  returning  home,  Valerio  met  Tintoretto,  and 
told  him  what  had  just  happened.  He  also  informed 
him  of  Francesco's  relapse.  The  master  was  seri- 
ously grieved,  but,  seeing  that  discouragement  had 
entered  Valerio' s  soul,  he  carefully  refrained  from 
giving  him  those  ordinary  consolations  which  only 
aggravate  still  more  the  suffering  of  an  ardent  tem- 
perament. He  pretended,  on  the  contrary,  to  share 
his  doubts  regarding  the  future,  and  to  think  Bozza 
very  capable  of  surpassing  him  in  the  contest,  and 
of  conducting  the  school  of  the  Bianchini  so  well 
that  it  would  excel  that  of  the  Zuccati. 

**This  is  all  very  discouraging  to  think  of,"  added 
he.  "  Here  are  these  men  who  know  in  fact  noth- 
ing about  art;  but,  thanks  to  a  young  man  who  did 
not  know  much  more  a  little  while  ago,  thanks  to 
perseverance  and  pluck,  which  often  take  the  place 
of  genius,  the  most  brilliant  talent  will  sink  into  the 
shade  perhaps,  where  ignorance,  or  at  least  bad  taste, 
will  bear  the  palm.  Farewell  to  art;  the  days  of 
decadence  have  come." 

"Perhaps  this  misfortune  is  not  inevitable,  my 

212 


THE  MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

dear  master,"  said  Valerio,  roused  by  this  assumed 
air  of  dejection.  "  Thanks  to  God,  the  contest  is 
not  yet  opened,  and  Bozza  has  not  yet  produced  his 
masterpiece." 

"  I  will  not  conceal  from  you,"  replied  Tintoretto, 
"  that  he  has  made  a  very  fine  beginning.  I  happened 
to  see  it  yesterday  when  passing  through  San  Fan- 
tino,  and  I  was  surprised  at  it,  for  I  did  not  believe 
Bozza  capable  of  such  productions.  His  pupil, 
young  Antonio,  is  very  apt,  and  moreover  Bar- 
tolommeo  retouches  his  work  so  minutely  that  no 
defect  is  allowed  to  remain  in  it.  He  also  directs- 
the  two  others,  and  the  Bianchini  are  such  servile 
copyists  that,  with  a  good  instructor,  they  are  capa- 
ble of  drawing  very  well  by  a  gift  of  imitation 
without  understanding  drawing." 

"  But  indeed.  Master,"  said  Valerio  with  a  troubled 
look,  *'  you  will  not  give  the  prize  to  these  charlatans 
to  the  detriment  of  the  true  disciples  of  art  ?  Messer 
Tiziano  will  not  do  so  either  ? " 

"  My  dear  child,  in  this  contest  we  are  not  called 
upon  to  judge  the  men,  but  the  works;  and,  to  make 
more  sure  of  justice,  it  is  probable  that  their  names 
will  be  withheld  in  the  proceedings.  Besides,  you 
know  it  is  the  custom  to  pronounce  judgment  upon 
a  piece  of  work  without  having  seen  the  signature. 
213 


THE  MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

For  this  reason  it  is  covered  up  with  a  slip  of  paper 
before  the  picture  is  presented  to  us.  This  custom 
is  the  symbol  of  the  impartiality  which  ought  to 
guide  our  judgment.  If  Bozza  surpasses  you,  my 
heart  will  bleed,  but  my  lips  shall  speak  the  truth. 
If  the  Bianchini  succeed,  I  shall  think  that  imposture 
has  triumphed  over  loyalty,  vice  over  virtue;  but  I 
am  not  an  Inquisitor,  and  I  have  only  to  judge  of 
pieces  of  enamel  arranged  in  a  given  space  more  or 
less  artistically.'* 

"  I  know  that  very  well,  Master,"  replied  Valerio, 
a  little  piqued;  "but  why  do  you  think  that  the 
school  of  the  Zuccati  will  not  force  you  to  give  it 
the  palm  ?  It  fully  intends  to  do  so.  Who  asks  any 
unlawful  indulgence  from  you  ?  We  should  not  do 
so,  even  supposing  that  we  were  able-  to  obtain  it 
from  you." 

"  You  seem  so  discouraged,  my  poor  Valerio,  and 
you  have  such  an  amount  of  work  to  do,  that,  if 
your  brother  does  not  speedily  recover,  I  tremble 
indeed  at  the  position  in  which  you  now  are.  More- 
over, Francesco  being  sick,  has  your  school  an  ex- 
istence ?  You  are  an  able  master,  you  are  endowed 
with  wonderful  facility,  and  inspiration  seems  to  be 
beforehand  with  you.  But  have  you  not  always 
turned  your  back  upon  glory.?  Are  you  not  in- 
214 


THE  MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

different  to  the  applause  of  the  public  ?  Do  you  not 
prefer  the  intoxication  of  pleasure,  a  sort  of  dolce 
far  niente  existence,  to  titles,  riches,  and  praise? 
You  are  a  man  highly  gifted,  my  young  master; 
your  intelligence  might  overcome  all  things.  But  I 
must  not  deceive  you ;  you  are  not  an  artist.  You 
scorn  the  contest,  you  disdain  the  prize,  you  are  too 
broad-minded  to  descend  into  the  arena.  Bozza, 
with  a  hundredth  part  of  your  genius,  will  succeed 
yet  by  his  ambition,  perseverance,  and  stubborn 
disposition." 

"Master,  perhaps  you  are  right,"  said  Valerio, 
who  had  listened  to  this  speech  like  one  in  a  dream. 
"I  thank  you  for  having  expressed  your  fears  to 
me ;  they  are  the  result  of  a  tender  solicitude  only 
too  well  founded.  However,  Master,  we  shall  see. 
Adieu." 

Saying  this,  Valerio,  following  the  custom  of  the 
time  and  the  country,  kissed  the  hand  of  the  illus- 
trious master,  and  lightly  crossed  the  Rialto. 


215 


XXIII. 

VALERIO  threw  everybody  into  commotion  on 
going  back  to  the  studio.  He  walked  briskly, 
spoke  loudly,  hummed  with  a  disconsolate  air  the 
refrain  of  a  merry  drinking  song,  said  with  an  air 
of  tenderness  some  hard  words,  broke  his  tools, 
made  fun  of  his  pupils,  and,  drawing  near  to  his 
brother's  bed,  he  embraced  him  passionately,  saying 
to  him  with  a  manner  half  foolish,  half  inspired, 
"Come,  be  easy,  Checo,  you  will  win.  You  will 
have  the  grand  prize;  we  will  present  a  masterpiece 
for  the  contest.  Come,  come,  nothing  is  lost.  The 
Muse  has  not  yet  reascended  to  heaven." 

Francesco  looked  at  him  in  amazement. 

"What  is  the  matter  with  you?"  said  he.  "All 
that  you  say  is  so  strange !  What  has  happened  ? 
Have  you  had  a  quarrel  with  any  one  ?  Have  you 
met  the  Bianchini  ? " 

"  Explain  yourself.  Master ;  tell  us  what  has  hap- 
pened," added  Marini.  "  If  I  may  believe  some  talk 
I  overheard  this  morning  in  spite  of  myself,  Bozza*s 
216 


THE  MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS 

picture  is  already  far  advanced,  and  they  say  it  will 
be  a  masterpiece.  This  is  why  you  are  annoyed, 
my  Master;  but  reassure  yourself;  our  efforts  —  " 

"I,  annoyed?"  cried  Valerio;  "and  since ^ when 
was  I  annoyed  if  one  of  my  pupils  distinguished 
himself?  At  what  moment  of  my  life  have  you 
seen  me  disturbed  or  uneasy  over  the  success  of  an 
artist  ?    Indeed,  I  am  very  envious,  am  I  not  ? " 

"  What  makes  you  so  touchy,  my  good  master  ? " 
said  Ceccato.  "Which  of  us  ever  had  such  a 
thought?  But  tell  us,  we  beg  of  you,  if  it  is  true, 
that  Bozza  has  really  done  something  fine?" 

"Without  doubt,"  said  Valerio,  smiling  and  sud- 
denly resuming  his  sweetness  and  accustomed  gayety, 
"he  ought  to  be  able  to.  I  gave  him  good  rules 
enough.  Very  well.  What  is  the  matter  with  you 
then,  all  of  you,  that  you  are  so  down-hearted? 
One  would  think  you  were  so  many  willows  hang- 
ing over  a  dried  up  cistern.  Come,  what 's  the 
matter  there  ?  Has  Nina  forgotten  the  dinner  ?  Has 
the  Procuratoi'-Cassiere  ordered  a  new  barbarism? 
Come,  children,  to  work !  We  have  not  a  day  to 
lose, — no,  not  an  hour.  Come,  come,  the  tools !  the 
enamel !  the  boxes !  let  every  one  surpass  himself, 
for  Bozza  does  fine  things,  and  it  is  for  us  to  do  still 
finer  ones." 

217 


THE  MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

From  this  moment  joy  and  activity  reigned  again 
in  the  little  studio  at  San  Filippo.  Francesco  seemed 
to  come  back  to  life  in  finding  once  more  in  all 
these  friendly  looks  a  gleam  of  hope,  a  ray  of  holy 
joy,  such  as  formerly  had  given  birth  to  the  master- 
pieces in  the  cupola  of  St.  Mark's.  Misgivings  had 
for  a  moment  rested  on  all  these  young  heads,  like 
a  leaden  dome  above  the  smiling  caryatides,  but 
Valerio  had  driven  it  away  with  his  good  humor. 
The  immense  will  power  he  was  exerting  was  con- 
centrated within ;  he  showed  it  only  by  an  increase 
of  cheerfulness.  But  a  marked  change  had  taken 
place  in  Valerio;  he  was  no  longer  the  same  man. 
If  he  had  not  fallen  a  victim  to  the  allurements  of 
vanity,  if  he  had  not  become  one  of  those  jealous 
mortals  who  cannot  endure  that  others  should  be- 
come successful  or  famous,  at  least  he  was  reli- 
giously devoted  to  his  profession.  His  character  had 
become  serious  under  the  mask  of  gayety.  Misfor- 
tune had  cruelly  tried  him  in  the  most  sensitive  part 
of  his  soul,  by  striking  those  whom  he  loved,  and 
proving  to  him  by  bitter  lessons  the  advantages  of 
regularity.  He  also  came  to  understand  why  Fran- 
cesco, in  spite  of  his  economy  and  uniform  habits, 
found  himself  in  such  straitened  circumstances  the 
day  after  the  trial.  Discovering  in  his  brother's 
218 


THE  MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

trunk  the  receipted  bills  of  his  own  creditors,  Va- 
lerio  had  cried  like  the  prodigal  son.  Great  souls 
often  have  great  faults,  but  they  overcome  them; 
and  this  it  is  which  distinguishes  them  from  the 
vulgar.  So  from  that  day,  Valerio,  even  when  in 
the  best  of  circumstances,  never  again  departed 
from  the  rules  of  moderation  and  simplicity  which 
he  had  imposed  upon  himself  in  the  secrecy  of  his 
heart.  He  never  spoke  a  word  of  this  resolution  to 
any  one,  but  he  showed  his  gratitude  to  Francesco 
by  a  life-long  devotion,  and  his  steadfastness  of  soul 
by  morality  in  spite  of  all  temptation. 

Innocent  mirth,  happiness  born  of  industry,  song 
and  laughter,  awoke  again  the  slumbering  echoes  of 
this  little  room.  The  winter  was  severe,  but  wood 
was  not  lacking,  and  every  one  had  hereafter  a  fine 
sable  cloak  and  a  warm  velvet  doublet.  Francesco's 
strength  returned  as  if  by  a  miracle.  Nina  regained 
her  freshness  and  grace,  and  the  expectation  of  giv- 
ing birth  to  another  child  consoled  her  for  the  loss 
of  her  first-born.  The  one  who  survived  the  plague 
grew  visibly,  and  little  Marie  Robusti,  his  godmother, 
often  came  to  the  studio  of  the  Zuccati  to  amuse 
him.  This  young  and  charming  girl  took  a  special 
interest  in  the  work  of  her  young  friends,  and  she 
was  already  capable  of  appreciating  its  worth. 
219 


THE  MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

At  last  the  great  day  arrived,  and  all  the  pictures 
were  carried  to  the  sacristy  of  St.  Mark's,  where  the 
committee  were  assembled.  Sansovino  had  been 
added  to  the  masters  previously  nominated. 

Valerio  had  done  his  best,  and  hope  was  all  aglow 
in  his  heart.  He  came  to  the  meeting  with  that  holy 
trust  which  is  not  incompatible  with  modesty.  He 
loved  art  for  its  own  sake,  and  was  happy  in  that 
he  had  successfully  expressed  his  thought,  and  the 
injustice  of  men  could  not  wrest  from  him  this  inno- 
cent satisfaction.  His  brother  was  obviously  ex- 
cited, but  without  false  shame,  without  hatred,  and 
without  jealousy.  With  his  beautiful  pale  face,  his 
delicate  trembling  lips,  his  glance  at  once  timid  and 
proud,  he  anxiously  awaited  the  masters  of  the  com- 
mittee. All  of  them  wished  to  be  able  to  award 
him  the  prize ;  but  their  attention  was  diverted  by  a 
man  so  wan,  so  agitated,  so  convulsively  bowing 
his  salutations,  half  cringing,  half  insolent,  that  they 
were  almost  frightened,  as  one  is  at  the  sight  of  a 
madman.  Soon  however,  Bozza  recovered  his  self- 
possession  and  decorum,  but  he  felt  every  moment 
as  if  he  should  faint  away. 

The  mosaic-workers  waited  in  an  adjoining  apart- 
ment while  the  Commission  proceeded  to  examine 
their  works.    At  the  end  of  an  hour,  which  seemed 

220 


THE  MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

a  century  to  Bozza,  they  were  summoned,  and  Tin- 
toretto, advancing  to  meet  them,  requested  them  to 
sit  down  in  silence.  His  immovable  features  ex- 
pressed to  none  of  them  what  each  wished  to 
discover.  The  silence  could  be  felt.  Their'breath 
came  short ;  their  throats  swelled,  their  hearts  beat 
quickly.  When  they  had  seated  themselves  on  the 
bench  assigned  to  them,  Titian,  being  the  oldest, 
placing  himself  near  the  pictures  which  had  been 
arranged  in  a  line  along  the  wall,  pronounced  in  a 
clear,  firm  voice  the  following  formula :  — 

"We,  Vecelli  called  Tiziano,  Jacopo  Robusti 
called  Tintoretto,  Jacopo  Sansovino,  Jacopo  Pistoja, 
Andrea  Schiavone,  Paolo  Cagliari  called  Veronese, 
all  master  painters  approved  by  the  Senate  and  by 
the  honorable  and  fraternal  corporation  of  painters, 
commissioned  by  the  glorious  Republic  of  Venice, 
and  nominated  by  the  venerable  Council  of  Ten,  to 
act  as  judges  of  the  works  presented  at  this  meeting, 
have,  with  the  help  of  God,  the  light  of  reason,  and 
uprightness  of  heart,  attentively,  conscientiously, 
and  impartially  examined  the  said  works,  and  have 
unanimously  declared  worthy  to  be  promoted  to 
the  first  mastership,  having  the  direction  of  all  the 
other  masters  herein  mentioned,  only  the  author  of 
the  picture  on  which  we  have  inscribed  the  number 

221 


THE  MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

one,  with  the  seal  of  the  Commission.  This  picture, 
the  author  of  which  is  unknown  to  us,  faithful  that 
we  are  to  the  oath  that  we  have  taken  not  to  read 
the  signatures  before  having  pronounced  on  the 
merit  of  the  works,  will  now  be  presented  to  your 
eyes  as  well  as  to  our  own." 

At  the  same  time,  Tintoretto  lifted  one  of  the 
veils  which  covered  the  picture,  and  removed  the 
slip  which  concealed  the  signature.  Francesco 
uttered  a  cry  of  joy.  The  awarded  picture  was  his 
brother's.  Valerio,  who  in  his  most  sanguine 
moments  had  never  counted  on  anything  more  than 
the  second  prize,  remained  motionless,  and  dared 
not  allow  himself  to  feel  any  pleasure  save  that  of 
seeing  his  brother's  delight. 

The  second  awarded  picture  was  Francesco's,  the 
third,  Bozza's.  But  when  Tintoretto,  who  took  pity 
on  his  suffering  and  imagined  he  could  give  him 
great  pleasure,  turned  toward  him  expecting  to  see 
him  stand  like  the  others  and  uncover,  he  was 
obliged  to  call  him  three  times.  Bozza  remained 
immovable,  his  arms  crossed  upon  his  breast,  his 
back  resting  against  the  wall,  his  head  sunken  and 
hidden  on  his  bosom.  A  third-rate  prize  was  alto- 
gether beneath  his  notice.  His  teeth  were  set  so 
tight,  and  his  knees  were  so  drawn  up,  that  they 

222 


THE  MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

were  almost  obliged  to  carry  him  out  after  the 
meeting. 

The  last  prizes  fell  to  Ceccato,  Gian  Antonio  Bian- 
chini,  and  Marini.  The  two  other  Bianchin;  failed, 
but  the  Republic  gave  them  work  later  on,  when 
it  realized  that  more  than  the  limited  number  of 
mosaic-masters  were  needed.  But  their  task  was 
assigned  them  in  buildings  where  they  would  find 
themselves  neither  in  contact  nor  rivalry  with  the 
Zuccati,  and  their  hatred  was  forever  reduced  to 
powerlessness. 


223 


XXIV. 

BEFORE  breaking  up  the  meeting,  Titian  exhorted 
the  young  laureates  not  to  imagine  that  they 
had  arrived  at  perfection,  but  to  work  for  a  long 
time  yet  after  the  models  of  the  old  masters  and  the 
cartoons  of  the  painters.  **  It  is  in  vain,"  said  he, 
"  that  the  vulgar  are  moved  at  the  sight  of  brilliant 
particles  neatly  joined  together  in  uncouth  repre- 
sentations of  religious  subjects;  it  is  in  vain  that 
prejudiced  people  deny  that  mosaic  work  can  attain 
to  the  beauty  of  design  of  fresco  painting.  May 
those  among  you  who  realize  by  what  processes 
they  have  merited  our  votes  and  excelled  their  com- 
petitors persevere  in  the  love  of  truth  and  the  study 
of  nature.  May  those  who  have  committed  the 
folly  of  working  without  rule  and  without  convic- 
tion profit  by  their  failure,  and  apply  themselves 
seriously  to  study.  It  is  never  too  late  to  abandon 
a  false  method  and  to  repair  lost  time." 

He  entered  into  a  minute  examination  of  all  the 
works  exhibited  at  the  meeting,  and  brought  out 
224 


THE  MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

their  beauties  and  defects.  He  dwelt  particularly  on 
Bozza's  errors,  after  having  given  great  praise  to  the 
beautiful  parts  of  his  work.  He  criticised  the  face 
of  Saint  Jerome  for  lack  of  grace  in  the  drawing, 
and  for  a  certain  expression  of  cruelty  which  was 
less  becoming  to  a  saint  than  to  a  pagan  warrior,  a 
conventional  color  devoid  of  life,  a  frigid,  almost 
contemptuous  look  in  the  eye.  "  It  is  a  fine  face," 
added  he, "  but  it  is  not  Saint  Jerome." 

Titian  spoke  also  of  the  Bianchini,  and  tried  to 
soften  the  bitterness  of  their  defeat  by  praising  their 
works  in  certain  respects.  As  it  was  his  custom  to 
make  his  dose  of  honey  a  little  stronger  than  his 
absinthe,  after  having  approved  the  mechanical  part 
of  their  work,  he  tried  also  to  praise  their  design ; 
but  in  the  midst  of  a  somewhat  hazardous  speech 
he  was  interrupted  by  Tintoretto,  who  pronounced 
these  words,  contained  in  the  proch-verhal :  — 

"  lo  non  ho  fatto  giudizio  delle  figure,  ne  della  sua 
bonta,  perch^  non  mi  h  sta  domanda." 

At  the  close  of  this  memorable  morning,  Titian 
gave  a  grand  dinner  to  all  the  painters  of  the  com- 
mission, and  to  all  the  mosaic-masters  who  had 
received  a  prize.  Little  Marie  Robusti  was  there 
dressed  as  a  sibyl,  and  Titian  that  evening  made  her 
his  model  for  the  sketch  of  the  head  of  the  child 
225 


THE  MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

Virgin  in  the  beautiful  picture  to  be  seen  in  the 
Museum  of  Venice.    Bozza  did  not  appear. 

The  banquet  was  superb.  They  gayly  drank  to 
the  health  of  the  laureates.  Titian  noticed  with 
surprise  Francesco's  face  and  behavior.  He  did  not 
understand  this  total  absence  of  jealousy,  such  ten- 
der, devoted  fraternal  love  in  an  artist.  He  knew 
very  well  that  Francesco  was  not  without  ambition, 
but  his  heart  was  more  exalted  than  his  genius. 
Valerio  was  in  raptures  over  his  brother's  happiness. 
Sometimes  he  was  so  affected  by  it  as  to  become 
melancholy.  At  dessert,  Marie  Robusti  drank  to  the 
health  of  Titian ;  and,  immediately  after,  Francesco, 
rising,  lifted  his  cup,  and  said  with  a  beaming  coun- 
tenance, "  I  drink  to  my  master,  Valerio  Zuccato." 
The  two  brothers  threw  themselves  into  each  other's 
arms,  and  mingled  their  tears. 

The  good  Father  Alberto,  they  say,  enjoyed  him- 
self a  little  too  much,  although  he  drank  only  a 
few  drops  of  Grecian  wine,  while  the  convivialists 
drained  full  cups.  He  was  so  gentle  and  so  sincere 
that  his  indiscretion  only  made  him  diffusive  in  his 
praise  and  admiration. 

The  old  Zuccato  came  in  at  the  close  of  the  dinner. 
He  was  in  a  bad  humor. 

"  A  thousand  thanks,  Master,"  said  he  to  Titian, 
226 


THE  MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

who  offered  him  a  cup.  "  How  can  you  expect  me 
to  drink  on  a  day  like  this  ^ " 

"  Is  not  this  the  happiest  day  of  your  life,  com- 
rade ?  '*  replied  Titian.  "  On  this  account,^  ought 
you  not  to  empty  a  flagon  of  Samos  with  your 
friends  ? " 

"  No,  Master,"  replied  the  old  man,  "  it  is  not  a 
happy  day  for  me.  It  binds  my  sons  forever  to  an 
ignoble  calling,  and  condemns  two  first-class  geniuses 
to  unworthy  works.  Great  heavens !  I  do  not  see 
that  this  calls  for  a  toast." 

He  condescended  to  bow  when  his  sons  drank  to 
his  health.  Then  little  Marie  came  to  stroke  his 
silvery  beard,  begging  what  she  called  a  pardon  for 
her  husband. 

"  Hey  day  !  "  said  Zuccato,  "  does  this  pleasantry 
still  continue,  my  pretty  child?" 

"  So  much  so,"  answered  Tintoretto,  smiling, 
"  that  I  wish  to  give  you  a  betrothal  dinner  at  the 
earliest  opportunity." 

History  does  not  say  whether  this  dinner  ever 
took  place,  or  v/hether  Valerio  Zuccato  married 
Marie  Robusti.  It  is  to  be  supposed  that  they 
remained  intimately  united,  and  that  the  two  families 
were  always  one.  In  vain  did  Francesco  desire  to 
abdicate  his  authority  in  virtue  of  his  brother's 
227 


THE  MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

claims :  he  was  obliged  by  Valerie's  persistency  to 
return  to  his  position  as  first  master,  so  that  Va- 
lerie's title  remained  purely  honorary.  The  school 
of  the  Zuccati  once  more  became  successful  and 
happy.  Nothing  was  changed,  except  that  Valerio 
led  a  regular  life,  and  that  Gian  Antonio  Bianchini, 
influenced  by  good  example  and  won  by  good  deeds, 
became  an  excellent  artist  in  conduct  as  well  as  in 
ability.  Happy  days  succeeded  this  new  horizon, 
and  the  Zuccati  produced  other  masterpieces,  a  de- 
scription of  which  would  take  too  long,  and  more- 
over you  have,  my  children,  ample  leisure  to  go  and 
admire  them  in  our  basilicas.  Bozza's  Saint  Jerome 
is  in  the  Exchequer,  that  of  Gian  Antonio  in  the 
sacristy  of  St.  Mark's.  That  of  Zuccato  was  sent  as 
a  gift  to  the  Duke  of  Savoy.  I  cannot  tell  you  what 
has  become  of  it. 


228 


HERE  ended  the  Abbe's  story.  Some  allowances 
must  be  made  for  Bozza.  In  spite  of  the 
great  failings  of  this  artist,  his  great  sufferings 
interest  us. 

"  Bozza,"  said  the  Abb^,  "  could  not  endure  the 
idea  of  working  under  the  direction  of  the  Zuccati.' 
The  dread  of  finding  them  still  generous  after  all 
his  faults  was  more  appalling  to  him  than  all  his 
punishments.  He  wandered  from  city  to  city, 
working  sometimes  at  Bologna,  sometimes  at  Padua, 
living  on  little  and  earning  still  less.  In  spite  of  his 
great  talent  and  his  diploma,  his  haughty  manner 
and  gloomy  appearance  inspired  mistrust.  He  was 
not  over  sensitive  to  poverty,  but  obscurity  was 
the  torment  of  his  life.  He  returned  to  Venice  after 
a  few  years,  and  the  Zuccati  obtained  a  mastership 
for  him  and  occupation.  Times  had  changed.  The 
government  had  become  less  strict  in  its  reforms. 
Bozza  could  work;  but  it  seems  that  Tintoretto 
229 


THE  MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

could  never  forgive  him  for  his  conduct  toward  the 
Zuccati.  The  stiff  old  man,  obliged  to  furnish  him 
with  cartoons,  made  him  wait  so  long  for  them 
that  Bozza,  in  a  letter  which  we  have,  complains 
of  being  reduced  to  want  by  the  delays  of  the 
master.  The  Zuccati  had  nothing  of  this  kind  to 
fear:  they  could  design  their  own  subjects,  and 
moreover  they  were  loved  and  esteemed  by  all  the 
masters.  They  carried  the  mosaic  art  to  a  degree 
of  perfection  which  has  never  since  been  equalled. 
Bozza  has  left  some  beautiful  works,  but  he  never 
could  overcome  his  faults,  because  his  soul  was 
incomplete. 

"Marini  and  Ceccato  seem  to  have  outlived  the 
Zuccati,  and  to  have  filled  their  places  in  the  first 
rank  of  the  mastership. 

"  And  now,  my  friends,"  added  the  Abb^,  "  if  you 
examine  these  magnificent  walls  of  mosaic  work,  ac- 
complished during  the  period  when  Venetian  paint- 
ing was  at  its  height,  and  if  you  call  to  mind  what  I 
showed  you  the  other  day  at  Torcelli,  of  some  old 
fragments  of  Byzantine  gypsoplasts,  you  will  see 
that  the  destinies  of  this  entirely  Oriental  art  were 
linked  with  those  of  painting  until  the  time  of  the 
Zuccati ;  but  later  on  mosaic  work,  left  to  itself,  de- 
230 


THE  MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

generated  and  finally  was  lost  altogether.  Florence 
seems  to  have  mastered  this  art,  but  she  uses  it 
solely  for  decorative  purposes.  The  new  chapel  of 
the  Medici  is  remarkable  for  the  richness  of  the 
materials  employed  in  its  ornamentation.  Lapis- 
lazuli  veined  with  gold,  the  most  precious  marbles, 
ambergris,  coral,  alabaster,  Corsican  green,  and  mal- 
achite, are  arranged  in  arabesques  and  decorative 
designs  with  exquisite  taste.  But  our  old  pictures 
with  their  undying  colors,  our  brilliant  enamel  in 
all  imaginable  shades,  so  ingeniously  obtained  by 
the  glass  manufacturers  of  Murano,  our  illus- 
trious mosaic-masters,  our  rich  corporations,  and 
our  jovial  confraternities  exist  no  longer,  except 
to  prove  by  these  monuments,  these  ruins,  or 
these  souvenirs  the  grandeur  of  the  time  which  is 
no  more." 

Day  dawned  on  the  horizon.  The  gray  gulls  rose 
in  flocks  from  the  farther  extremity  of  the  marshes 
of  Palestrina,  and  ploughed  through  the  air  in  all 
directions,  while  the  light  grew  visibly  brighter 
every  moment.  The  sun  rose  with  a  rapidity  of 
which  I  was  unconscious,  and  the  beauty  of  that 
morning  threw  me  into  a  kind  of  ecstasy. 

"Behold  the  only  thing  which  strangers  cannot 
231 


THE   MASTER  MOSAIC-WORKERS. 

take  away  from  us,"  said  the  Abb^  to  me  with  a 
sad  smile.  "  If  a  decree  could  prevent  the  sun  from 
rising  radiantly  on  our  cupolas,  long  ago  three 
guardsmen  would  have  signified  to  it  that  it  should 
keep  its  smiles  and  loving  looks  for  the  walls  of 
Vienna." 


232 


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1  193" 


DEC 


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JUL  27  1946 


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LD  21-50m-8,32 


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